


words rendered into kisses, sighs

by thegrumblingirl



Series: Dishonored prompts [1]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Blankets, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dad!Daud, Established Relationship, Family Feels, Fluff, Hair Brushing, I fill prompts to wallow in AUs I'll never have time to write properly, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Magical Accidents, Multi, OT3, Sleeping Together, Spymaster!Daud, Unresolved Tension, Voice Kink, also dumb stuff, prompts include:, various shades of un/requited love and (mutual) pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-14 01:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 24,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13582677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrumblingirl/pseuds/thegrumblingirl
Summary: A collection of tumblr prompt fills.





	1. b. Bedroom // 16. “I failed.”

**Author's Note:**

> eyyy so I hate archiving work on tumblr, so I'm putting the prompts I filled last night on here for safekeeping. if you want to send me a prompt, too, have a look at this list of [writing prompts](https://screwtheprinceimtakingthehorse.tumblr.com/post/170504667475/writing-prompts)!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by: anon

They pile in through the window, reeking of sewer and river krust and dead rats. Daud looks around. The Chamber doesn’t look changed, all told, still much as he’d left it when the Whalers had moved to the other side of the Flooded District three months ago.

“Ugh,” Corvo grunts as he picks himself up. Daud does the same. He cleaned out his bedroom when they abandoned Rudshore, so there’s no use in looking around for things left behind. They’re only here because they need to access the shrine in the crumbling building across the way from Daud’s old office. Others, dotted across the map, have been tampered with. This one is remote enough to be safe — or so they hope.

“I’ve smelt worse — and so have you,” Daud reminds Corvo on their way down the stairs.

“Oh?” Corvo prompts, a note of amusement in his voice that Daud’s not heard very often — before or after everything went to shit. So he decides to indulge him.

“Whale guts, an old distillery, and a busted security door. Locked in for half an hour before I could sneak out when a guard made his rounds.”

Corvo’s quiet for a moment. At length, Daud turns to look, and catches just the edge of a grin as Corvo opens one of the tall doors and checks the outer hallway.

“Traps are still intact,” he reports. Closing the door, he asks, “The job?”

“Got it done,” Daud shrugs. “Once you know not to let them see you, you know not to let them smell you.”

“And pawning your laundry off on some poor novice?”

“That,” Daud says as he disarms the trap securing the window by his desk, “I failed.”


	2. o. Fever // 21. “I’m sorry, I can’t get up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by thepunchlineislesbian

“Daud! Daud!”

Slowly coming back to himself, Daud groaned. “Nngh.” ‘Thank the Void,’ he  _thinks_  he hears someone whisper, but he’s not sure. He keeps his eyes closed. “Corvo?”

There’s a hand on his arm that wasn’t there before. “I’m here.”

“How long was I out?”

“About an hour. I found an abandoned apartment — well, it’s more a hole in the wall — far enough away, we’re safe for now. But we have to move soon. You’ve been getting warmer.”

“A fever’s not gonna keep me from moving,” Daud delivers sparsely, forcing his eyes open and blinking against the low light.

“No, but an infection might. That witch got you pretty good. We have no idea what’s in those thorns,” Corvo warns him.

Daud grits his teeth. “Alright, alright.” He turns his arm in Corvo’s grasp to grip his in return, and Corvo braces himself to help him sit up.

Daud makes it about an inch until the searing pain in his back is enough to nearly make him black out again. There’s a cry he belatedly realizes was his. He sinks back down, Corvo’s hand darting forward to support his neck, and his fingers are cold against Daud’s skin. He’s probably right about that fever setting in.

“I’m sorry, I can’t get up,” Daud pants through the pain. “Go. Go back to the Tower.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” Corvo protests, and Daud all but wants to close his eyes again.

“You’re not carrying me across the city, either,” Daud barks. “Send Samuel, and Aedan.”

“Daud—”

“Just tell them to hurry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to send me a prompt, too, have a look at this list of [writing prompts](https://screwtheprinceimtakingthehorse.tumblr.com/post/170504667475/writing-prompts)!


	3. o. Fever // 4. “Come back with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by: anon

It sounds so easy when Corvo says it. So easy — and so tempting. Standing there, in the doorway, the sun standing low behind him.

It’s been 11 years since they last saw each other, the day Daud walked out of Dunwall Tower. The Empress back on her throne, her daughter and her Protector by her side; Daud had stuck around a while. Rooting out the last of Burrows’ allies had been easy enough.

Leaving, on the other hand… but he’d had to, had to get away from Dunwall, out of Gristol. So he’d gone. The Whalers scattered into the winds, one after the other, and Void knew where they were.

He’d missed them. Jessamine and Corvo, Emily, much as he’d never understood the liking she’d taken to him. It was like Pandyssian Fever: even after you’ve beaten it, some of it sticks to your bones forever. And so does this.

So here, in Karnaca, Corvo is asking him to come back. Daud sent a letter to Dunwall, detailing rumours he’s heard and things he’s seen that worry him. Women wearing roses on their collars; and a name. Breanna Ashworth.

He never thought Corvo would show up, would even bother looking. He didn’t even sign the Void-damned letter.

“Daud.” Corvo’s closer now, almost at his back, still turned. “Come back with me.”


	4. u. Quiet campsite // 4. “Come back with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by: anon

The campsite’s quiet, and Daud the only one awake. Rulfio and Thomas are tucked up in their bedrolls, and Galia’s sworn up and down she could sleep in a tree and not plummet to her death. How that’s going to help with keeping watch, Daud doesn’t know, and doesn’t really care.

They’re still tracking the witches that escaped from Coldridge. They went north, and the hills and valleys leading up to Potterstead and Driscol are a mess of wild forests. All manners of beasts and boars hide in the dark, and Daud wouldn’t be here at all if it weren’t for the worry that even just one of Delilah’s witches might return to finish the job.

Corvo wanted to come along, and Daud flat-out told him ‘no, end of.’ So he was here, with three Whalers who hadn’t actually worn their masks in years, propping up his collar against the cold.

There are whispers on the wind, this far out from civilization there always are. But these whispers are carrying his name, and he knows their voices.

_Daud…_

He’s heard them all day, and ignored them, but here, in the dark, it’s harder to.

_Daud_ …

“Get away,” he growls low in his throat.

_Daud, come back with me_.

It’s  _her_  voice that’s haunting him, and he’s got an idea now how Corvo must have felt. But she’s gone, gone to the Void forever, and this is nothing but a trick his frayed sense of guilt is playing on him.

Just a trick.


	5. l. Memory // 6. “We still have tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by: lordtye

In this world, every night could be their last. Every day could be the one that all of it goes howling into the Void. They try to guard against it, of course they do. Patrols, guards, scouts scouring every inch of the city. Most of the time, they try not to think about it.

And then, some nights, it’s all Daud can think about. Nights that he buries his face in Corvo’s neck and tries not to hold on too tight, as if Corvo can’t read him like an open book. As if Corvo isn’t thinking the same thing.

“We still have tomorrow.”

It’s a reminder, it’s a benediction, and sometimes it’s a vow. It’s whispered into the dark at the end of another day, the words rendered into kisses, sighs. They still have tomorrow — another sunrise to meet, another chance to make their mark upon the world when the turning of it seems so slow that change seems likewise impossible.

It’s the making of a memory, to ward them against fear and the Void itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to send me a prompt, too, have a look at this list of [writing prompts](https://screwtheprinceimtakingthehorse.tumblr.com/post/170504667475/writing-prompts)!


	6. c. Nighttime //  23. “You don’t mean anything to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by: anon

There are things Daud needs to say. Half-truths and lies, some of them; but they’re not things he says out loud. Never that. He told Corvo once, ‘I’ve never lied to you.’ He won’t start now.

They’re things he tells himself before turning to find that Corvo has arrived in his office, plans and reports in hand. They’re things he tells himself when he goes to bed and it  _shouldn’t_  feel too big – it can’t,  _he_  barely fits in it – but it does.

When Corvo sets a hand on his arm to get his attention, when he sits down across from him for breakfast and steals Daud’s coffee mug, when he sends Emily to stay with  _Daud_  while he’s out patrolling so she’ll be safe…

Daud has to remind himself, in the dark, that none of this means anything, that it  _can’t_ , because Corvo’s lost the love of his life and Daud… Daud made a promise to keep them safe from monsters.

“You don’t mean anything to me,“ he whispers into the silence of his room. Someday, he’ll believe it.


	7. e. Magic //  13. “Will you just mind your own business?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by: anon

His mother warned him never to make enemy of a witch, and it’d been that memory, among other things, that had led Daud to leave the coven of witches rumoured to have holed up at Brigmore Manor alone – until now.

A witch’s magic was so different from what he possessed, for all that Delilah bore the Mark of the Outsider. Spells and rituals, rune magic intertwined with centuries of knowledge of herbs and poisons, the same his mother had used when he was a little boy and barely tall enough to peer over the edge of the table that she worked at.

_Hello, old friend._

Daud looked up and found that the Void had taken over his office. It was rare – had been even when they hadn’t sniped at each other over every Void-damned thing – that the Outsider just appeared somewhere; much preferring to pluck his playthings out from under their own dreams.

“What do you want?” he asked, going back to his paperwork. (‘Old friend, my ass,’ he didn’t say.)

_Where’s Corvo?_

“Out on patrol,” Daud replied without having to think about it. Well. That might have come a bit quick.

_Do you miss him when he’s gone?_

There was something in the Outsider’s voice that kept Daud from snapping at him, but only just. Perhaps because he sounded curious rather than mocking, and because Daud didn’t know him to show up to have a chat; much less to ask questions like  _that_.

So instead, he just turned in his chair, watching the Outsider where he did his best impression of a person leaning against a bookcase.

“Will you just mind your own business?”

It didn’t sound half as angry as it should have.


	8. c. Nighttime //  8. “I just want to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by: lillkogobean/kogouma (<3)

It’s enough, Corvo decides. It’s damn well enough. He’s been on his feet all day, and he’s used to it. He’s scrambled across rooftops half the night, and he’s used to that, too. He’s spied on Hatters and Eels and Bottle Street thugs, and now he’s had enough.

He burrows deeper into the pillows, curling into the bedding, ready to  _sleep_.

Behind him, the mattress dips.

“You’re hogging the sheets,” a deep, rough voice tells him, and Corvo smiles at the sound of it.

“I just want to sleep,” he mumbles.

“And I’ll let you, just give me what’s mine.”

“Hrmpf,” is the only sound Corvo makes; but he rolls over far enough that Daud can excavate the corner of one of the blankets. A strong tug later, Daud seems satisfied, as a warm, steady weight settles against Corvo’s back. Daud kisses his neck.

“Sleep, Corvo.“


	9. p. Glow // 9. “I’ve never seen anything more inspiring.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by: bid

Daud can’t help it. He’s staring. Staring like a Void-damned idiot. He’s pretty sure his mouth is open and he’s doing nothing to stop it.

Corvo is… he’s beautiful. The glow of his mark is incandescent as he pulls himself through the Void and back into the world, blinking across the training grounds. The Whalers are doing their best, but those that he tags are out – and he tags them one by one.

Later, in Corvo’s room, Daud takes his face in his hands and kisses him, because there’s nothing else he can do.

“What was that for?” Corvo asks softly when he lets him go.

“I’ve never seen anything more inspiring,” Daud tells him, infatuation making him stupid and too honest for his own good. But Corvo smiles, and so it can’t have been so bad.


	10. r. Regret // 15. “I’ll do anything.  You know that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by: anon

_What would you be willing to do, I wonder_ , the Outsider muses, affecting laziness as best as he knows how from having watched people do for centuries,  _to save those you love from the Void?_

Corvo doesn’t answer. Regret is something he knows very well – a poisoned blade. It need barely pierce the skin to be deadly. In a fight with regrets untold and deeds undone, the winner wasn’t determined by who might draw first blood.

Because regret always wins.

Corvo’s is sharp, and the proof of it sits in the pocket of his coat. Had he ever even  _tried_?

“I’ll do anything. You know that.”

_Would you take his place?_

Corvo raises his eyes. “Would you have let me take hers?”


	11. x. Poor planning //  1.“I need you to miss me.” - a. Rainy river’s edge //  26. “We’ll be alright, won’t we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by: anon

“I need you to miss me,” Corvo gasps as he heaves himself over the edge of the roof.

“What?” Daud asks eloquently.

“Shoot a bolt into the bricks by my head when I’m talking to the Bottle Street Gang. Make them think someone’s after me. In their panic, they’ll leave a few doors unlocked and we can slip in.”

“Are you out of your mind? Why?”

Corvo pauses. Sighs. “Poor planning.”

//

The Wrenhaven’s choppy this far out. They can see Kingsparrow Island in the distance. It’s raining, and Corvo and Daud are standing at the river’s edge, watching whaling ships and tow boats pass by.

“We’ll be alright, won’t we?” Corvo asks, still watching the water.

“Don’t see why not,” Daud says plainly. It’s a lie, of course. The first he’s ever told Corvo. And, hopefully, the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to send me a prompt, too, have a look at this list of [writing prompts](https://screwtheprinceimtakingthehorse.tumblr.com/post/170504667475/writing-prompts)!


	12. m. Calm meadow // 25. “I hate it out here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by: threewhiskeylunch.

“I don’t know why I went along with this,” Daud growls as he marches through the tall grass.

“It’s not far now,” Corvo tells him over his shoulder, holding the map in one hand, a compass in the other.

It’s strange, Daud thinks before he can stop it, to see Corvo holding a compass to show him the way, where before—he shutters the thought, focuses instead on how much he despises bugs crawling into his boots even more than rats and plague flies.

“Far or not, why are we _here_?”

 _Here_  being the vast grounds of the Brigmore estate, stretching beyond the waterfall. The Overseers stationed in the area had marked several points of interest on the maps they’d found. Corvo didn’t have the time to go searching for whatever they might have found (or thought they had) while trying to chase Daud from the Void, but now… apparently the Lord Protector has a soft spot for treasure hunts.

“There’s an abandoned shack just down that path,” Corvo tells him — for the tenth time today, if Daud’s honest. “The Overseers believed an old bone carver lived there. If they were right, we might find something interesting.”

“If the witches haven’t plundered it all already.”

“Then we’d have found it at the manor,” Corvo reasons, unaffected by Daud’s attitude, striding on. Easy for a man as tall as a tree.

Daud sighs, not for the first time today, watching a butterfly flutter by.

“I hate it out here.”


	13. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Happy anniversary.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it's punch's birthday today, so here's a thing I wrote based on their wonderful Date Night art: <https://a-whole-lotta-whalebone.tumblr.com/post/171130926986/date-night-on-a-roof-of-dunwall-sharing-a-bottle>

It’s Corvo who remembers — and admittedly, he remembers only by accident. He might be off by a day or two, but the timing is about right, he knows, the days and dates that followed seared into his brain by the sheer pain of remembering them.

So he engineers their schedules be kept clear, and he tells Daud they’re going on patrol together a few nights hence because there’s something he wants to check out, down in the Tower District. Daud, to his credit, doesn’t question much because he’s very comfortably napping when Corvo tells him this, exhausted after a night-long patrol keeping an eye on the Hatters. Half-draped over Corvo, who’s using his back to stack Watch reports, he hums and burrows deeper into Corvo’s shirt.

They’re out on the rooftops that night, and Daud’s about to ask what Corvo’s been wanting to check out that they had to leave well before sundown when Corvo stops. They’re on top of a structure from where they can see the river and the docks, and Corvo’s slowed right down after blinking over from across the street. Daud squints against the sun, and watches as Corvo rummages around behind an air vent. Corvo looks at him over his shoulder and grins.

He finds what he’s looking for and quickly hides it behind his back as he turns around. Daud looks suspicious now, of course he does, because he knows Corvo but does not know the expression he knows is spreading on his face now, the one that says he got one over on someone; only it isn’t a trap. It’s a gift. Or so he hopes.

Still hiding what he found behind his back, he steps towards Daud, smiling and watching Daud grow ever more suspect until Corvo’s right in front of him, until he leans in and kisses him and tells him.

“Happy anniversary.”

Daud barely kisses back and barely speaks when Corvo draws away, and Corvo doesn’t mind because he knows that, to Daud, anniversaries are a gift that _other_ people share. So he produces the bottle of Tyvian wine he stole from the Tower kitchens a week ago and smiles for the both of them.

“It’s been five years since our first kiss,” he explains, wondering if Daud has been tying his brain into knots doing the math.

Daud regards him for a moment.

“I brought _stun mines_ ,” he says, sounding somewhat put-out, as if disappointed there won’t be any reason to use them tonight.

“I know,” Corvo tells him cheerfully.

“When did you hide that?” Daud asks, pointing at the bottle of wine accusingly.

“About a week ago?” Corvo hazards.

Daud is quiet for a moment, still glowering at the wine. Then he looks up, and there’s doubt in his eyes, but hope as well.

“It’s our anniversary?”

Corvo nods.

“I didn’t know we had one,” Daud says then, as if Corvo has forgotten to let him in on an important secret, and Corvo has to fight not to laugh because Daud is _pouting_.

“Well, we can have several if we play our cards right,” he suggests, going for nonchalant but ending up at clumsily seductive; and he’s probably lucky he’s handsome or Daud loves him or both.

He gives the bottle an experimental jostle.

“Wanna open this?”

Daud hesitates, then nods, then looks surprised again when Corvo takes his hand and pulls him towards the edge of the roof. But he doesn’t protest when Corvo sits and tugs on his hand, he lets himself be pulled down to sit and puts his arm around Corvo when he moulds himself into Daud’s side.

Corvo opens the bottle and takes a sip, feeling very young and very stupid, and Daud makes a disgusted noise.

“From the bottle, Attano?” Daud teases, the use of his surname telling Corvo more than the arm around his waist that Daud is relaxing into the situation. “First-kiss anniversaries don’t get glasses, do they?”

“I’m a cheap date,” Corvo shoots back, handing Daud the bottle without looking, his attention for once not caught by the handsome features of the man beside him.

The sun is beginning to set.

Daud follows his gaze and stops, bottle in his hand forgotten.

“Damn,” he breathes. “You are anything but a cheap date.”

Corvo grins. “Why thank you.”

And so they pass the bottle and watch the sunset, slumping into each other. Sometimes they trade kisses, sometimes Corvo will nuzzle Daud’s cheek; and at some point Corvo nudges and prods at him until Daud props up a leg for him to lean against, Corvo’s side against his chest and his face buried in Daud’s collar. Corvo’s cheeks are blushing with the alcohol and warmth between them, and they stay like this until the sun is down and the bottle’s empty.


	14. fluff prompt: “Your bed head is really cute.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GIVE US GRUMPY IN THE MORNING DAUD, GRUMBLE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by: punch

Daud was, by all accounts, having a decent morning. Sunlight was filtering in through the curtains softly swaying in the wind (and when had _that_  ever been his Void-damned life?); even Dunwall deigning to get a bit warm at the height of Clans and Songs. But it could have been the height of Ice and Cold, for all he cared, because there was a warm body next to him, curled into his side and burrowing closer now.

If it just hadn’t been so Void-forsaken, _fucking early_.

Daud stubbornly refused to open his eyes. Corvo stirred, and hummed against his neck. No. No, absolutely not. Daud tried to turn away, to turn his back on temptation, but Corvo’s arms had clamped around his chest while he hadn’t been paying attention, and now he was trapped.

“No,” he grunted. It was the principle of the thing. Corvo smiled against his neck, he could _feel it_. “No,” he said again, and _sat up_ , which he knew went counter the point he had been so painstakingly trying to establish. He didn’t give a shit. He sat up as best he could with Corvo still _clinging_  (had the man any sense of self-preservation? Well, he was in bed with _him_ , so probably not), glaring down at him and his stupid, smiling ~~(handsome)~~ face.

“Early,” he growled.

 **“Your bed head is really cute,”** was all Corvo saw fit to say, smiling up at him.

Before he could stop himself, Daud raised a hand to his hair, feeling it stick up every which way and very likely ruining whatever of his fearsome reputation he had left.

Corvo’s smile widened.

Daud _hated_  mornings. Almost as much as he loved this man.


	15. fluff prompt: “But I want to hear you sing.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So do I xD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by my girl :3

Daud, by his own statement, did not sing. Not in the bath, not while plucking flowers in the garden — he never did the latter, either, but it was one of those occasions he would have spitefully cited as one where much sillier persons might be inclined to unclench their jaws and dredge up a ditty.

Corvo knew, however, that Daud _hummed_ , and certainly in the bath. It was a low, rumbling sound that seemed designed to either soothe Corvo after waking from a perturbing dream, or to lull him into sleep in the first place in the night. Sometimes, such humming put a small, smug smile on Corvo’s face, for he knew just what it had been to put Daud into such a jovial mood.

One evening, Daud had just returned from patrol and Corvo sat at his desk, half paying attention to the papers in front of him, half listening to Daud as he washed up. He raised his eyes when Daud emerged from the ensuite bathroom, just in the business of rolling up his shirtsleeves. He stopped short at finding Corvo staring at him.

“What?” he asked with the sort of suspicion that amused Corvo, simply because it spoke of Daud’s acquaintance with _that look_  on Corvo’s face over the duration of their relationship.

“You always stop as soon as you’re done,” Corvo complained mildly.

“Stop what?” Daud asked, brow drawn up.

“Humming, you stop whenever your immediate task is done.”

“Because it is merely an abstraction during repetitive tasks,” Daud returned, doubtlessly aiming to distract Corvo through amusement at the overly formal phrasing. “I don’t see how that is worthy of complaint.”

“ **But I want to hear you sing,** ” Corvo decided to abandon pretence, grinning then when Daud’s expression turned pained.

“I do not sing,” he professed, then turned away to claim one of the chairs across from Corvo.

“Not even for me?”

“That’s not fair.”

Corvo did his best to look incapable of any such contrivance.

“Mmh-hmm,” was all Daud said to _that_.

“Daud.”

“No.”

“Sing for me.” Corvo designed to make it worse by leaning his chin on one of his hands and smiling at Daud winsomely. “Please.”

Daud, to his credit, held out all of ten seconds before growling, “For you. Once. _And_  you join me. I will not embarrass myself all on my own.”

Corvo fought not to let his feeling of triumph show on his face. “With your voice, it will hardly be an embarrassment.”

“And what would you have me sing, Lord Protector?” Daud decided to turn exactly that voice against him.

“Do you still know any old Serkonan songs?” Corvo asked, unwilling to admit to any feeling of yearning for home but equally loathe to pass up this opportunity.

Daud’s gaze was knowing. “I might.”


	16. fluff prompt: “I might have slept with your robe when you were gone.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the fluffy Corvo/Daud pleaase 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by landakguling, exalok, and kivusa

Coming home still carried a strange notion for Daud, and he could never quite decide whether it was the fact that he was coming home to one he might call husband were he in any other situation, and to one he certainly called daughter; or the fact that he was coming home to a Void-damned palace. Dunwall Tower was his home now. Ten years ago, he’d had advised anyone who’d have dared predict such nonsense to have themselves committed.

But here he was. Coming home.

It was early, just after dawn. The ship he’d taken back from Morley had made good time, and instead of heading for his small apartment on Market Street first, Daud made for the Tower. If he hurried, he could still catch Corvo at breakfast, before he submitted himself to the duties of the day.

Daud did indeed arrive in time for breakfast, and he tried to attribute the abject beating of his heart to the race he’d taken across the rooftops, not any sort of… excitement.

The smile on Corvo’s face when he blundered in through the window somewhat less than gracefully put paid to any such notion.

“Daud,” Corvo fairly dropped his fork onto his plate, and got up to greet him. Daud crossed the room with one last Transversal, uncaring that he felt his Mark burn, uncaring for the pouch of Addermire Solution strapped to his belt — he had more pressing matters to attend to.

Such consisted, for instance, of taking Corvo into his arms and kissing him senseless.

His fingers curled into the fabric covering Corvo’s back, but where he could normally grab fistfuls of Corvo’s morning robes, this time the cloth pulled tight over Corvo’s shoulders. Still, it was of no consequence to Daud for the moment — or at least, until they had to concede some time to the necessity of breathing.

They parted, and Daud shifted his hand to Corvo’s neck, exerting gentle pressure until Corvo, with another smile, leaned his forehead against Daud’s.

“Welcome home.”

Daud smiled — a smaller, more reserved gesture, but no less genuine. He opened his eyes, seeing, first, Corvo’s shirt open at the collar, enticingly so — and then, what he was wearing.

“Is that..?” He tugged at the fabric. He looked up into Corvo’s face. It had been a while since he’d seen him blush.

 **“I… might have slept with your robe on while you were gone,”** Corvo admitted, blushing a little more but overall seeming quite unashamed.

At first, Daud did not know quite what to say, and eventually settled on: “It suits you.”

Corvo tilted his head. “Is that all?” His tone was teasing.

“Expecting a reward?” Daud teased right back, and had to rein in a laugh when Corvo pouted. He hooked his arm around his shoulders to draw him down towards him, then whispered in his ear: “I missed you, too.”


	17. fluff prompt: "Shush and go back to bed"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gib Daud shooshing Corvo for them bad nightmares. Corvo: ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚ Daud: ( ಠ ಠ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by anon

When Daud woke, it was to an empty bed and warmth gone from the sheets. The fire had burnt low in the grate, and Daud looked around in the fading light.

“Corvo?”

He was standing by the open window, looking out across the Wrenhaven, wearing a robe over his sleep clothes, little though it would do to ward off the chill int he middle of High Cold. He must have been out of bed a while. He hummed to acknowledge Daud, but his gaze remained fixed on the river.

That damned river, Daud thought. When it wasn’t flooding plague-ridden districts, it was calling good men out of bed. Well. One good man.

He got up, making enough noise with the covers to give Corvo time to ask him not to. When no such request came forth, Daud stood and wandered over. He stopped just behind Corvo, not quite touching but close.

“Bad dream?” was all he asked. Sometimes Corvo answered, sometimes he didn’t. In any case, they’d go back to sleep eventually.

“The Void,” Corvo said simply. “You were there and then you weren’t, and when you came back, you were… not you.”

“Who was I?“

“He came with you. He wanted out of the Void, maybe he was in danger or maybe he was just bored. So he tagged along, used you as a vessel, but he—he’d pushed you out. It was your body, but your mind…“

The words came rushing out of Corvo as though speaking them now could purge the lingering images from his mind, and Daud stepped closer then, to set his hands on Corvo’s shoulders, frowning when he felt him shiver slightly.

“Shh,” he gentled him easily. “Go back to bed, you’re going to catch your death of cold.”

“I don’t like to sleep,” Corvo admitted quietly.

“Don’t have to. C’mon.“ Daud let his hand grasp for Corvo, and when he gently tugged, Corvo closed the window with his other hand and let himself be led back to bed. Daud helped him shed the robe, then lifted the sheets for him. Crawling in after him, Daud wrapped himself around Corvo, encircling him tightly in his arms and tangling their legs together.

Then, very quietly, he began to hum.


	18. fluff prompt: “Ssh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by anon

It was rare for Corvo to be so exhausted by mid-day that he just collapsed on the settee in his and Daud’s quarters. It was not unusual for Daud to be occupying said settee around that time of day, reading the morning’s reports and most likely scheming up new training routines for the Whalers. (Guards. Must remember to call them guards, Corvo thought. He’d done so for the past two years.)

He sort of vaguely awakened to the sensation of someone playing with his hair, and then remembered that Daud had simply lifted the papers off his lap and given Corvo a significant look; which Corvo had correctly interpreted to mean, “lie down, you idiot.” He had, his head pillowed on Daud’s lap, and promptly nodded off like the overworked, overtired Royal Protector and Spymaster he was. (It turned out that being _father_ to a thirteen-year-old Empress was actually not the thing that would have him turn grey before his time.)

He’d let his hair grow out again after Daud’s return from the Void, and it had almost grown back to the length it had been before all this; certainly long enough that he tugged it back with a hair ribbon when needed. That tie had been loosened now, and he would have gone on to tease Daud when he became aware of two things:

One, the fingers in his hair were too small to be Daud’s, and there was no tug of leather gloves on the strands.

Two, a hand large enough to _be_ Daud’s rested on his shoulder.

Corvo stirred.

 **“Ssh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair,”** a young voice told him. Emily.

EMILY.

Corvo opened his eyes, and quickly found that Emily was sitting on a small ottoman, squeezed in between Daud’s legs and the coffee table so that she might reach Corvo’s head, still resting in Daud’s lap.

What.

But.

_They hadn’t told her._

“It’s so nice of Daud to share the settee with you,” Emily said then, all innocence, and Corvo didn’t know whether to narrow his eyes at her or count his blessings. “I noticed how tired you were this morning, so I came to check on you.”

“He didn’t even take off his shoes,” Daud rumbled from above, subtly squeezing Corvo’s shoulder. Corvo couldn’t turn his head to look up at him on account of his hair being adorned with braids, but he did see Emily’s eyes flick up; and then she grinned at Daud.

Oh, by the Void.


	19. fluff prompt: "You are very endearing when you are half-asleep."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> either one of them, also half-asleep, mostly mumbling it, and everyone's just super flustered about how precious the other one is being. or anything really, i'll just imagine that haha :')

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by exalok

To set the scene, all inclined readers must know is this: it was late, Void-damned late, Daud was feeling his age after a night out in the rain, joining the Whalers on patrol (even though he really did not _have_ to, as he knew Corvo would remind him good and proper in the morning, in between kisses and back rubs that stopped above Daud's ass because Corvo was a mean, terrible man). Daud shed his clothes and joined Corvo in bed, trying to be sneaky about it so as not to wake him. Corvo had the unfortunate habit of conking out right on top of Daud in the afternoons if disturbed during the night, and Daud would never tire of teasing him about it even as it uncomfortably reminded him that they were both not getting any younger.

"Mmmnhhhh," Corvo hummed in his sleep, and Daud stilled, one leg still out of bed, toes just touching the floor like a Void-damned ballerina. He waited. Corvo snuffled. Shifted a little.

Then settled.

Daud let out a small breath, then quickly slid fully under the covers. He nudged closer until he could wrap an arm around Corvo's waist and smell his hair. Content, he sighed, and closed his eyes.

He was just dozing off when Corvo mumbled, "How late is it?"

Daud opened one eye. _Really?_ He opted not to reply and pretended to be asleep.

"I know you're not sleeping," Corvo murmured into his pillow.

Daud sighed again, though this time not necessarily with contentment.

"It's three in the morning, and you need to go back to sleep," Daud said quietly.

"Hrmpf," Corvo made a rather disgruntled noise. "I wanted to wait up f'you."

"There was nothing urgent to report tonight," Daud handed out the reassurance he thought Corvo sought.

"Ngh," Corvo proved him wrong. "Wanted to wait up f'YOU."

"Oh." Even after all these years, things like that still… caught Daud off guard. In response, he tightened his hold on Corvo. **"You know, you are very endearing when you are half-asleep."**

Corvo made a pleased sound into his pillow.

"But how about you go all the way back to properly asleep, and you can make it up to me in the morning?" Daud suggested with just a hint of a lecherous smile that, thankfully, Corvo couldn't see.

"Like the way y'think," Corvo opined.

"Hmm," Daud hummed, curling closer into Corvo's warmth. "So do I."


	20. fluff prompt: "It is not morning yet."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i have absolutely no ulterior motives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by exalok

All parties involved agreed that Daud, formerly the Knife of Dunwall, and now de facto Royal Spymaster to Her Majesty Jessamine Kaldwin I, was not what was commonly termed a ‘morning person.’ All parties involved, in this case, included Jessamine herself, Daud, of course, and their long-suffering better third, Corvo Attano. Long-suffering because he had discovered that Daud, much as he liked to act as though he had invented common sense and an unflappable sense of calm, was the worst enabler in the Empire.

He loved to help Jessamine rile nobles and courtiers, for instance by providing her with blackmail material she could easily reference in her council speeches and meetings. And it was Corvo who had to stand, unmoving, behind her high-backed chair as she did, resisting the urge to put his head in his hands and weep. Couldn’t he have fallen in love with… anyone else, really?

But no, it was the Empress, and now her Spy. Of course.

Where was he?

Right. Mornings.

Daud hated them, for all that he reliably got up just after dawn every day like clockwork; but the longer they were together and shared a bed, the better Corvo and Jess understood how much discipline it took some days.

Corvo was woken well before dawn by someone jostling the bed as they crawled in, then burying their nose in his neck and tangling their legs with his left — Daud, then, as Jess had fallen asleep curled into his right side.

Corvo hummed questioningly, but quietly to avoid waking Jess as well.

“Can’t sleep,” Daud whispered. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“’s alright,” Corvo whispered back. “Are you?”

“Fine. Just… just a dream.”

Corvo twisted a little to press a kiss against Daud’s temple.

“What are you two whispering about?” came Jessamine’s sleepy voice from his other side, and Corvo winced.

“Sorry, love,” Daud murmured and reached over Corvo to stroke a hand down her arm. “Go back to sleep.”

“Hmm,” Jessamine hummed, as if considering the suggestion and somehow finding it wanting. In the half-light, Corvo watched as she propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at them both. “But then it’ll be morning soon, and we must part. So, since we’re all well awake,” she said, smoothing her hand down Corvo’s chest, “may I remind you: **it’s not morning yet.** ”

“Void, woman,” Daud groused from Corvo’s left, then heaved himself up as well; and Corvo was treated to one of his favourite sights in the world as Daud and Jessamine kissed, their hands joined on Corvo’s stomach.

Not morning yet, indeed.


	21. fluff prompt: “If you steal the blankets, I am going to put my cold feet on you.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I would love some Corvo/Daud with my dinner how about “If you steal the blankets, I am going to put my cold feet on you.”, because that’s a conversation that has 100% happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by zachariahjuststoleourcat

Here was something Daud had learnt over the first few weeks of sharing a bed with Corvo: he was a filthy, rotten blanket thief. A no-good hogger. The worst blanket-larceny offender Daud had ever had the misfortune of sharing covers with. (Joke’s on him: the few times he tolerated someone enough to stay the night, they’d never shared digs for long enough to get to this stage. He couldn’t decide if this was for the better — he’d always ended whatever it was before he could get attached; his blood had run hotter when he was young and he’d sought release more than anything else. Perhaps something petty as cold feet would have lightened the mood.)

Any road, Corvo was the worst. There, he said it.

Daud shifted, smiling cruelly when Corvo twitched in his sleep.

“N’argh,” he grumbled into his pillow. “Feet. Cold.”

“And whose fault is that?“ Daud growled, shifting closer and burrowing underneath the blanket that was rightfully _his_. **“If you steal the blankets, I’m going to put my cold feet on you.** ”

“Mean.”

“Thief.”

“You love me.”

“That’s beside the point. Thief.”

“I love you, too,” Corvo mumbled, turning and wrapping himself around Daud, kissing his neck.

Daud sighed. That was the other thing about Corvo.

He _loved_ cuddling.

He looked down at the man now attached to him like a human limpet.

Shit, but he did love him.


	22. trope mash-up: 86 // I Didn’t Mean to Turn You On & 94 // Hair Brushing/Braiding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 86+94 Corvo\Daud for teh Fanfiction Trope MASH-UP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by anon

It’s a few weeks after the Boyle mission that Daud gets a report he has to speak to Corvo about, urgently. Corvo’s been down after breakfast to spar with him, and then said he’d take a bath — it’s been half an hour, so Daud suspects he’ll find him up in his room; hopefully decent. He makes his way up, and knocks on the door.

“Corvo?”

“Come in.”

So Daud does, but he’s not prepared for the sight he’s met with. Attano, sitting on his bed, clad in nothing but a towel. Daud stops and stares, until he realises Corvo’s trying, impatiently, to tug a comb through his hair.

“Sorry,” Corvo says then, twisting a little to look at him over his shoulder. “But I figured if you’re coming in all your state to see me, it must be urgent.”

“I—yes,” Daud starts, and pulls himself together enough to enter the room properly and close the door behind him. “It’s about Burrows and Timsh.“

“Tell me,” is all Corvo says, and so Daud does, summarising Galia and Rinaldo’s report. He’s about halfway through when his patience runs out and he snarls, “Attano, what do you think you’re doing? Brushing your hair or scalping yourself?”

Corvo’s been fighting with his mess of hair for five minutes now, clearly missing chunks of what Daud’s saying because he’s so annoyed with the tangled strands. Soon, he’ll also be missing chunks of hair, make no mistake.

Corvo makes another impatient noise and drops his hands in his lap. ”Sorry,” he says again, and Daud wants to hit him upside the head for how earnest it sounds. “Continue. I’ll finish up later.”

Daud regards him for a moment, internally fighting with himself and already knowing it’s a losing battle. Before he can talk himself out of it, he steps closer to the bed from where he’s been leaning against the window and holds out his hand. Corvo looks up at him questioningly.

“Comb,” is all Daud says, for fear of making an even bigger fool of himself.

Corvo looks surprised, but he hands over the comb without making a production of it. When Daud settles on the bed behind him, drawing his legs under him like a schoolboy, he has the nerve to say, “Thank you,” like Daud’s doing him some sort of favour. Psh.

Daud takes the comb and raises his hands, then reconsiders and takes off his gloves. Leather and wet hair do not go well together, and he has to work quickly now, before Attano’s hair dries in its tangled state and leaves even more knots. So he starts, untangling Corvo’s hair the way his mother had taught him to — holding the hair close to the scalp to avoid the pain, then working at the knots from the bottom up. Surely, Attano has to know how to do this properly, having a daughter. But perhaps he simply doesn’t have the same patience with himself — Daud knows the feeling.

Still, he works methodically as he continues giving Corvo his report. Corvo asks questions in between; some Daud can answer right away and others that are worth looking into later. When he’s done, he leans up over Corvo’s shoulder.

“Do you have a hair tie?” he asks, having seen Corvo wear his hair pulled back often enough to know he might prefer it that way.

And that’s when he sees something else. Corvo’s hands are quick, but not quick enough, and so Daud is left with nothing but the distinct impression of Corvo pressing down on the towel where it is covering his lap — adjusting himself. And that is definitely… oh dear.

“Oh,” Daud can’t help saying; knowing full well he should just ignore it. “I didn’t mean—I’m sorry.” He clears his throat. “Hair tie?” he asks again, if just to distract himself.

“I’m sorry,” Corvo says instead. “Please don’t—I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine,” Daud reassures him quickly, then mentally slaps himself for just how quickly. He sighs. “It’s fine, Corvo. I didn’t think.”

Corvo nods, then, and reaches for the hair tie on his tiny bedside table. “Here.”

“Ah.” Daud puts away the comb and quickly pulls Corvo’s hair back, and this time he’s keyed up enough to notice the goosebumps erupting on Corvo’s skin when he tucks a strand of hair behind Corvo’s ear without thinking. He hurries to complete his task, knowing very well he didn’t have to. “All done.” He leans back, but doesn’t get off the bed immediately when he realises that his own trousers have become a little… tight. Oh, Void.

Corvo has half turned around, watching him. His expression is far too open, but vulnerable, too, and Daud knows he has to get out. For both their sakes.

“I’ll wait downstairs,” is all he says, then, and collects his gloves, presses the comb back into Corvo’s hand, and makes to get off the bed; but Corvo’s other hand catches his arm.

“Daud—“ he starts, but Daud cuts him off.

“Corvo, this isn’t what you need,” he says, surprising himself with how gentle it sounds. He grits his teeth. “I’m not what you need.“

Daud resists the urge to kiss him, to prove his own words wrong. He withdraws from Corvo’s grasp instead, and finally gets off the bed. He leaves the room without another glance at Corvo.

Maybe, if he plays his cards right, he can convince himself that Corvo isn’t what he needs, either.


	23. fluff prompt: “How about a kiss?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :’))) its so soft and cute i love all the prompts ,,, thanks !!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by corvonuttano

“Wanna bet?” Corvo panted as he blocked Daud’s sword strike at the last moment. “You skipped one year in the Void, Daud, not ten.”

Daud smirked as he parried Corvo’s counter-attack, then danced away on surprisingly quick feet for a nearly fifty-year-old man, marked by the Outsider or no.

“Stakes?” he rumbled as he let his eyes rake over Corvo’s form agonisingly slowly; both, Corvo knew, to size him up and to put him off balance. Being stared as though he were good enough to eat still made Corvo’s breath hitch sometimes. (Ok, often. Most times. Almost always. Dammit, Daud.)

Gathering his wits, Corvo shrugged deliberately. “Age before beauty,” he shot back and had to fight a grin when Daud’s eyes narrowed.

“Alright,” Daud bit out, and then lunged forward, launching into a flurry of attacks Corvo would have had no way of countering had he not known Daud for nigh on a decade now.

He held his ground, but still Daud had him on the back foot; and when they ended up in a blade lock, Daud leered at him between their swords.

**“How about a kiss?”**

Corvo grinned and, making a snap decision, caught Daud off guard by swiping their blades downward and out of the lock. This sent Daud tumbling forward, right into Corvo, who caught him with a hand on his waist.

“Gladly,” he murmured, and kissed him gently.

Daud grunted against his lips, but then Corvo felt a hand fist in the collar of his vest; and Daud tugged him closer.

There. Sparring with Daud was never dull.


	24. trope mashup: 17 // War AU & 63 // Everybody Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> can i be predictable and, for the trope prompts, ask for Everybody Knows + War AU and CorvoDaud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by exalok

“Lieutenant Attano. A word, if you don’t mind.” The man’s deep voice cut through the din as the squad was leaving the room after the mission briefing.

Corvo would’ve gone with them, minding protocol and propriety, but apparently the Captain had other ideas. He waited until the last of his squad had left and closed the doors behind them — Galia, who’d possessed the nerve to wink at him. Then, he turned, to find his commanding officer walking towards him.

“Daud,” he said with a deferential nod as was befitting both their stations. Had they been strangers, he might have called him _Knife_ , for that was the Captain’s nickname among the ranks; stemming from his somewhat… murky past before entering the Serkonan army following not only a second Morley Insurrection, but after Gristol’s Emperor had been assassinated, his young daughter abducted, and the country overrun by witches. But they had not been strangers for many summers, and Corvo, young and in love and refusing to let him go alone, had followed.

Daud raised his brow at him, then he stopped and stood, waiting.

“Are you going to greet me properly or do I have to wait until this battle’s won for you to relax?“ he asked — teasing, but with a note of uncertainty that seemed impossible. But Corvo knew it was there.

He sighed, and crossed the remaining distance between them. Daud raised his hands to frame Corvo’s cheeks and slowly leaned in for a kiss.

When they parted, Corvo nudged Daud’s temple with his nose.

“This place makes me nervous,” he admitted. “I feel as though everybody will know just from a look at our faces. When we’re on the move in settlements, it’s alright, but here, in a _castle_ , one of the few still standing…“

Daud, though a few inches shorter than Corvo, caught his chin with his thumb and index finger and held his gaze.

“Everybody knows, and they’re too busy trying not to die skewered on a blood briar to care much,” Daud murmured softly.

He was right, Corvo knew. And right now, they were alone.


	25. prompt mash-up: 57 // Forgotten First Meeting, 99 // Magical Accidents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idk if you’re still accepting fic mash-up prompts, but if so maybe 57/99 for CorvoDaud pretty please?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by readbythestarlight

_Oh. Oh dear._

That… had not gone as planned. Not at all.

When the Outsider had given Billie the subtle _hint_ that she _might_ be able to travel through time at will, He had not foreseen… this.

The former Void god, now very much human and watching Billie’s efforts to keep the world from collapsing in on itself with increasing interest, hadn’t bet on her being so insistent that the Knife of Dunwall and its Lord Protector should meet.

When they were toddlers.

Or, indeed, when they were about nine and twelve years old each.

And one very memorable time just after Corvo’s father’s death, when an adolescent Daud had been so unforgivably insensitive about the matter that the Outsider very briefly feared the timelines would alter forever simply because even as a child, Corvo knew his way around a knife.

Every one of those encounters, the boys were doomed not to remember, however, as Billie quickly learnt. Why, she could not fathom.

“There has to be a way,” she groused. “If they could just be friends, at least for long enough before Daud leaves Karnaca, and then maybe he’ll have just a shred of compassion left before giving in to Burrows’ threats…”

It was not to be.

In any future, Jessamine still died; and not in all of them Daud lived after defeating Delilah.

“Fine.” Billie angrily dug up her old Whaler uniform. “If it can’t be as kids, if it can’t be here—“

“You can’t go to Dunwall, not that far.”

Billie gave him a hard stare from her good eye.

“I can, and I will.“

How she did it, he would never know; how she tricked Daud into following her one night; how she knew Attano would be there only days before he’d leave on the mission to ask for help with the Plague the Empress wanted to send him on.

He only knew, she’d only told him, that she’d torn off her mask, revealed herself for who she was, and barked at them to “TALK.”

And the rest, as they said, was history.


	26. prompt mash-up: 60 // Poorly Timed Confession & 84 // Married to the Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 60 and 84, Corvo/Daud for the trope mash up! (Or you can pick a pairing I just thought it would be cute)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by anon

They were both, as people said, married to their work.

Daud, Royal Spymaster, slept a harrowing four hours every night, and the rest of the time he spent poring over reports from his vast network of spies in Gristol and abroad.

Corvo Attano, Royal Protector, slept at least about six hours, on account of him having to watch over the Empress every waking moment; but when he wasn’t guarding her, he spent his time in Daud’s office, demanding to be kept up to date on all pertinent intelligence, to be able to do his damned job.

It was a solid truce, now, but early on Daud had not always been best pleased to find the Royal Protector butting into his business.

Much as Jessamine suspected that it was not the behind in question that was the problem.

She sighed. She was Corvo’s best friend, had been since they were children and she’d chosen him as her bodyguard mostly to be a pain in her father’s courtiers’ sides. But they’d gotten along well, and he’d been like an older brother to her from the beginning. And now, she was watching him pine like an idiot.

Of course, he refuted this.

The only one pining worse than Corvo — was Daud himself.

“He’s married to his work; and so I ought to be,” Corvo told her for the umpteenth time as he accompanied her on one of her walks through the royal gardens, the hedges tall and the roses in full bloom. If only she could have lured Daud down here with them, the setting would have been magnificently romantic.

At Corvo’s insistence, however, Jessamine rolled her eyes so hard she suspected Sokolov might detect it with one of his clever devices.

“You say that, and yet you must perceive that neither of you are married to me nor, more crucially, to each other,” she admonished him. “He’s utterly smitten with you, Corvo, how can you not see that?”

“There _is_ nothing to see, Jess,” he said gently but firmly.

“And what about you,” she tried a different tack. “What of your heart? It still beats for him, does it not?”

“Jess… Look, most of all, we’ve finally managed to call each other friend, I’m not risking that. It doesn’t _matter_ that I’m so in love with Daud I can barely think straight when he’s near me,” Corvo told her, and she found as much determination in his eyes as she found pain.

She was about to answer when, from the other side of one of the tallest hedges, a deep voice barked, “You’re **what**?”

A very familiar, deep voice.

“Oh no,” Jessamine breathed.

Immediately, Corvo blanched. Then, his eyes narrowed.

“You planned this.“

Jessamine shook her head. “I didn’t, I swear to you, I had no idea he was—“ her eyes were drawn to something behind Corvo. “Here.”

Corvo turned, and so they were both face to face with a very serious-looking Spymaster.

“Attano. My office, please,” Daud growled, then turned on his heel and set off towards the Tower.

His shoulders dropping, Corvo sighed. “Coming,” he said quietly, and left the gardens on the same route, without another look back at Jessamine.

Oh. Oh dear.

Of course, Daud would sooner convince himself that this had been a prank rather than a genuine conversation between friends.

She only hoped Corvo could convince him of the truth — and that Daud was willing to acknowledge his own.

She needn’t have worried, she supposed, when next she saw them was at dinner; as going by their relaxed expressions, the glances they kept exchanging when they thought no-one was looking, and what surely had to be a love bite peeking out from under Corvo’s buckled coat collar, they had spent the afternoon doing more than just ‘going over the latest Watch reports, Your Highness.’

Very good.

 


	27. trope mash-up: 4 // Coffee Shop AU & 86 // I Didn’t Mean to Turn You On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You want a mashup? have 4 (coffee shop) and 86 (i didnt meant to turn you on) :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by bid

inspired by [this post](https://screwtheprinceimtakingthehorse.tumblr.com/post/174737308241/sirhate-lily-peet-bad-idea-for-a-romantic)

* * *

A rabbi, a bodyguard, and a mob boss walk into a coffee shop — for most people, this would be nothing more than the tell-tale beginning of a truly awful joke. For Corvo Attano, security chief to CEO Jessamine Kaldwin of Dunwall, Inc., the punchline hit rather too close to home.

And if Rabbi Martin knew, he would probably give Corvo that Terribly Disappointed Look, before muttering to himself about lazy bastards living in their suits — whatever that would have been supposed to mean. Corvo did not pretend to know.

Thankfully, the rabbi had not actually been there that day; as Corvo would have been ill equipped to explain why he stood in the coffee shop only a stone’s throw from his apartment, on his way to work, mentally going through Jessamine’s schedule for the day and making sure the itinerary he’d set up still matched with her calendar by checking his phone; when, suddenly, all thought careened to a halt as he became aware of the man currently waiting, patiently, at the other end of the long counter.

He knew that face. Had only ever seen it on grainy surveillance footage, provided — reluctantly — by Lieutenant Curnow of the GPD, though.

Daud. Feared mob boss, rumoured former assassin, the one who held the entirety of Gristol’s organised crime in the palm of his hand. Corvo estimated him to be four or five years older than himself at the most. He looked a little older in person, but that was probably down to the scar carving up the right side of his face.

Such a distinctive mark, and yet he was still walking free. Corvo had once jokingly suggested putting up wanted posters throughout the city — Curnow had only retorted that an APB and about two dozen outstanding arrest warrants should do.

Corvo begged to differ.

Lost in his thoughts, he had kept his eye on the man for far too long, and now, when he tried to go back to the contents of his phone, he found Daud’s startlingly bright eyes staring right back.

There was hardly any doubt that Daud knew who he was, and who he worked for. Dunwall, Inc. had been the target of one of Daud’s crew’s operations often enough — shipments stolen, attempted break-ins in more remote facilities… Corvo wondered if one day an attempt on Jess’ life would join the charge sheet.

He’d be ready, if that day ever came.

For now, he held Daud’s gaze — what else was he to do?

They stared at one another, assessing, each caught out by their knowledge of who the other man was and their uncertainty what to do about it — in such a public place, even Daud seemed to have scruples. He shifted, straightening up from where he’d been leaning against the counter with his hip cocked. He broke eye contact, and then reached into the inner pocket of his finely tailored suit.

Corvo tensed.

Daud withdrew his own phone, and started tapping in commands — short and to the point, it seemed. He was done, apparently, by the time the barista deposited a tall cup at his elbow. Daud looked up to thank them, judging by the smile the young woman gave him, then took his order and, with one last glance at Corvo across the heads of the other customers, turned to leave the shop. Corvo didn’t dare turn to watch him go, his mind racing.

Should he have done something? Shit, he should have called Curnow.

Instead, he’d done nothing.

“Good morning, sir, what can I get ya?”

Corvo needed a moment to realise it was his turn.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “I just realised, I must have forgotten my wallet. Excuse me.”

He quickly turned, left the queue. Daud was unlikely to go anywhere without protection, so even if Corvo hadn’t seen anyone directly outside or inside the coffee shop, following the man was an extraordinarily stupid idea.

Corvo looked at his watch.

He had ten minutes.

He’d gotten about four blocks further when he caught sight of Daud — he wasn’t especially tall, but his frame was broad and the way he held himself as he walked was another thing Corvo recognised from borrowed surveillance footage. Now that he was paying attention, Corvo saw that Daud was “followed” by three young men in suits, not as finely tailored as Daud’s own, but close enough to know that he paid them well.

Corvo glanced at his watch again. Seven minutes, then he’d have to turn around. He tailed Daud and his entourage for two more blocks when a bus passed before Corvo could cross the street — and, suddenly, they were gone.

Shit.

Corvo, knowing full well that this was just yet another bad idea, picked up his pace.

He passed a shadowy alleyway, briefly glancing inside but deciding it wasn’t worth the bother. He’d barely taken another step when a gravelly voice behind him spoke.

“Attano. A word.”

Fuck.

He could have kept going, could have just ignored the voice and done his best to get out.

He followed the voice instead.

He stepped into the alley, letting his eyes adjust to the dark until he could make out Daud, leaning against the wall, his cup of hot caffeine still in one hand, the other in his trouser pocket. Behind him, his three shadows, regarding Corvo indifferently. Corvo wondered whether, if this were a penny novel, they’d be wearing masks.

“Figured we’d run into each other sooner or later,” Daud said à propos of nothing, sounding as cavalier as though just remarking upon the weather. Clement, for the season.

“What do you want?“ Corvo demanded, more to give his tongue something to do and to buy himself some time.

“Me?” At this, Daud pushed off the wall and came closer. His guards didn’t move a muscle. They had to trust that Daud could take care of himself well enough — even against Corvo Attano, former black ops. “You were staring at me across a coffee shop for a full two minutes. Really, Corvo,” Daud rumbled when he stopped just in front of him, Corvo’s hackles rising at being addressed by his first name, “there were children around.”

Corvo ground his teeth. “If you’re trying to offend me, it’s not working,” he informed him, clipped.

“Oh?” Daud raised a brow. Then, he smirked. “Good to know.”

For a moment, Corvo could only stare. What the fuck was he doing?

“If you’re not going to shoot me, take me hostage, or threaten my employer,“ he rallied, “then I really must be going.“

Daud responded by stepping closer.

“So soon?”

“Daud,” Corvo threatened, quite as though — shit, as though he were talking to Jess when she was teasing him by contemplating yet another dress thirty minutes before they were due to leave for yet another charity gala. Not to a dangerous mob boss who might well one day decide that he wanted them dead for profit.

He nearly missed Daud’s sharp intake of breath, well as he tried to hide it.

“Alright,” Daud conceded, and gestured towards the busy streets. “But I do hope we get to continue this… conversation at a later date.”

Conversation?

“I wouldn’t call this ‘talking,’” Corvo said before he could stop himself.

“Get to work, Attano,” Daud answered, accompanying the words with a dismissive little gesture that Corvo would have very much liked to break his arm for. “We’ll… talk. Soon.”

Before he could make even more of a fool of himself, Corvo turned on his heel, loathe though he was to turn his back on such a man as Daud, and left the alley at a measured pace.

Damn if Daud saw him running.

Would they, then? Talk?

Corvo had no idea.

They’d just have to see.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posted as its own work now as well: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/14897292/chapters/34503177>


	28. trope mash-up: 47 (not a date) and 69 (flirting under fire)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you're still doing trope mash-ups? Maybe 47 (not a date) and 69 (flirting under fire)? If you haven't already done something like that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by donotfeedthewildauthor

While they were waiting for the night of the Boyles’ masquerade ball to roll around, Corvo and Daud ran recon missions along with the Whalers most nights. It couldn’t hurt to gather what dirt was up for grabs on anyone they might run into at the party. They were passing through the Distillery District on their way to the Legal District — just in time to eavesdrop on a squad of Hatters, who were on their way to knock some heads together.

In Bottle Street.

Corvo was well aware that Daud was rolling his eyes behind him, but he’d already changed course. He knew that Slackjaw could defend himself well and fine on his own; the Hatters weren’t all they were cracked up to be and, frankly, their aim was shit and always had been. But any ambush and ensuing gang skirmish would draw the ears and pistols of the City Watch; and they needed this district to be _quiet_ tonight.

Still, Corvo let Daud hold him back with a hand on his shoulder when they arrived at the distillery, watching from above as the Hatters arrived.

“They’re coming out of the Void-damned walls!” one of Slackjaw’s men bellowed, unclipping the bottle of whiskey every Bottle Street thug carried from his belt.

A second later, the first shot rang out.

Corvo looked over his shoulder at Daud; his expression hidden by the mask, but the gesture itself would be enough. Daud, his jaw set, rolled his eyes one more time, presumably, shrugged, and then nodded.

For a man who claimed to be empty as the Void, he was awfully expressive.

Without hesitation, Corvo blinked down, Daud on his heels. They landed behind a hastily overturned table — right next to Slackjaw. Daud, who could afford to be spotted by the Hatters even less than Corvo, nodded at the man briefly, then continued on towards the other end of the yard, then up on the roof of one of the outbuildings. Slackjaw, with his mouth open to speak — to shout an order — looked over his shoulder, then turned back to Corvo.

“You know, lad, not that I don’t appreciate the help, but you two need to pick better spots for your moonlight walks.”

Corvo needed a moment to catch onto what Slackjaw was saying. Then, he snorted, the sound horribly muffled by the mask. He jerked his head towards the yard.

“Hatters?”

Slackjaw shot him a look. “All business, you are. Does the idiot assassin like it?”

“Does the idiot assassin like what?” Daud rasped as he dropped back in beside Corvo — crouching just in time, as all three men turned their faces away when a bullet struck near the edge of the table and splinters went flying.

“My horrible bedside manner,” Corvo shot back before Slackjaw could answer.

Daud tilted his head. “Your bedside manner is fine, if you’re a Hatter. You haven’t killed half as many of them as you should.”

“I haven’t killed _any_ of them,” Corvo returned, confused as to what Daud was getting at now. Shouts were sounding from the skirmish. They’d have to break it up soon, lest the Watch came barging in to do it for them.

“And that is why they call you the Masked _Felon_ — you break in and you steal whatever isn’t nailed down. Doesn’t have the same ring to it as assassin, does it,” Daud groused.

“We need the money, your coffers will be empty by the end of High Cold, you said so yourself,” Corvo hissed back, darting a quick look across the yard.

“If all else fails, I can always break into Dunwall Tower and make off with the reserves,” Daud leaned over the barricade as well and quickly pulled his head back when yet another shot struck the wood.

“ _We_ can break into Dunwall Tower,” Corvo said as he loaded a sleepdart into his crossbow. “Now go and flank them, there are two still on the left. I’ll take the other two on the right.”

With a grunt, Daud transversed up onto the pipes.

Slackjaw shook his head.

“Look, I can see you make each other happy, somehow, but Corvo, lad, you have do better if you’re calling this a date.”

Corvo called upon the Void to blink, but paused. “This isn’t a date.”

Slackjaw tilted his head at him. “You keep telling yourself that, darlin.” Then, he vaulted the barricade to club a Hatter over the back of the head.

Left behind, Corvo shook his head. Slackjaw was seeing things that weren’t there. Surely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when you're tired enough to add the chapter to the wrong prompt story XD


	29. one-line prompts: 90. “I don’t want to think about what I’d be like without you.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the writing prompts: 90? just murder me (also 28 because i'm a silly bugger and it sounds hilarious)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by exalok

Months after Daud’s return from the Void, he finally raised a subject that should’ve been discussed much sooner.

“We have to destroy Delilah’s paintings,“ he said one morning in Corvo’s office — Corvo’s chambers, their chambers, now.

“I know.”

And that was that.

A week later, they entered the room Corvo had sequestered them in.

“This is where you…” Daud trailed off, still not quite grasping what Corvo had done, what Corvo had put himself through, to get to Daud in the Void.

Corvo nodded.

Neither of them spoke, then, neither of them moved. Daud stared at the canvases, those Void-damned swirls of paint that had brought them nothing but pain.

“Where’s the painting she made of Emily?” Daud asked quietly.

“Hidden,” was all Corvo said.

“Good.” Daud did not want to know where. It was better if he didn’t.

He was about to reach out, to take the first step in doing what had to be done, when Corvo spoke.

**“I don’t want to think about what I’d be like without you.”**

Daud stopped in his tracks.

“If you hadn’t come back. If you hadn’t—if you haven’t been there after Jessamine’s death. I don’t want to, but every time I look at these paintings… I think, what if. What would I have become?”

“Corvo—“

“You stopped me at Holger Square; that was the moment. I had my blade a Campbell’s throat, I—”

“Corvo,” Daud cut him off. “I told you then, I wasn’t stopping you.”

Corvo turned to him. “What does that mean?“

“It means,” Daud began, not knowing how to shape what he’d felt that night into words but knowing he owed it to Corvo to try. To tell him what he’d known that night and every night since. “I wanted you to choose. And whatever path you would’ve chosen, I would have followed.” He raised his eyes to look at Corvo. “I would have followed you into the dark. That is the man I am, Corvo, that is the man who returned from the Void. Too selfish to give you up, even when I knew nothing of you.”

“You told me to be sure,” Corvo said softly. “I wasn’t sure of much of anything that night, but you—”

“It was Emily that kept you right, not me,“ Daud countered, desperate not to be made into a saviour; not anyone’s, not even Corvo’s.

Corvo laid a hand on his cheek, drawing him closer. “You told me to be sure,” he whispered. “And I am.”


	30. one-line prompts: 28. “That’s almost exactly the opposite of what I meant.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the writing prompts: 90? just murder me (also 28 because i'm a silly bugger and it sounds hilarious)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by exalok

“Steady. Steady,” Daud called across the practice yard, towards where Emily and Alexi were facing off against one another — blades raised, but not yet moving a muscle, waiting until Daud gave the command. “One of you needs to make the first move, and the other will have to react within a fraction of a second. Watch your opponent’s body language, watch their eyes. Learn their tells.”

“Or,” Rinaldo chimed in from where he was perching in the rafters. “You could just kick them where it hurts before they can get you.”

Daud sent up an annoyed look.

 **“That’s almost exactly the opposite of what I meant,”** he said drily.

“Dunno about you, boss,” Rinaldo blinked down next to him. “Worked for me before I met you.”

Daud rolled his eyes. “Give over.“

Rinaldo grinned at him. Daud let a moment pass, then looked back towards Emily and Alexi.

“GO!” he bellowed. The two girls sprung into action — Emily was just a smidge quicker, and Alexi had to scramble to parry.

“Damn,” Rinaldo said, observing them. “That thirty-minute lecture on never letting themselves get distracted you gave them last week really paid off.”

“You ought to know it by heart,” Daud rumbled. “Had to tell you about a dozen times.”

Rinaldo looked over at him. “You know half the time mucking up in training I was just winding you up, right?”

“I know.” Daud raised his brow at him. “And somehow, I kept you on. You, and the rest of the miserable lot.”

“Nah,” Rinaldo laughed. “You love all your stupid kids.”

“You’re not my kids.”

“Of course, sir.”

 


	31. hurt prompt: ‘wet floor signs are there for a reason, you know.’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ wet floor signs are there for a reason, you know. ’ !!!!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by punch

Daud hated hospitals. Had spent enough time for a lifetime in them — most soldiers did. Wounded themselves, visiting squad mates, and, as officers, delivering condolences more often than not. He’d not had much occasion to set foot in a hospital that he might call ‘happy.’ Nor had Corvo; apart from one. He’d been lucky enough to get shore leave just in time for Emily to be born.

Today, they were wandering the halls of Dunwall’s St. Ignatius Hospital mostly because they’d both been kicked out of the maternity ward — for their ‘hovering,’ the nurse had told them with a glare; Jessamine snickering behind her. The forcible removal of her husband and partner left her far from alone, however; Emily, Billie, and Rinaldo were still with her.

Daud contemplated this, and other things, as he strode along the corridor on the way back from the cafeteria. He and Corvo had decided to get some coffee and grab a bite to eat; Void knew they wouldn’t remember to once contractions truly set in.

“Daud, slow down,” Corvo called from behind him, balancing the tray with more coffee and snacks for the kids.

Daud didn’t listen.

Twenty seconds later, he found himself flat on his ass, half of his cup of coffee spilling every which way. Fuck’s sake.

Corvo came up at his side and looked down at him.

“Wet floor signs are there for a reason, you know,” he said, visibly fighting a smile. No, make that _shit-eating grin_.

Daud glared up at him. “I’ve spilt my coffee,” he announced mostly for the sake of it, and because saying it out loud gave his annoyance something to chew on.

“One might say all of you has taken a bit of a spill,” Corvo returned smoothly, giving up the fight against the shit-eating grin.

Daud narrowed his eyes. “Remind me why I ever fell in love with you,“ he rumbled, then finally moved to pick himself up off the ground. He transferred the mug from one hand to the other to shake off some of the coffee. At least the corridor had been deserted — no-one had borne witness to his distraction. “Go on, I’ll see if I can bother the nurses for a towel.”

Corvo hummed. “Remember to be charming,” he called over his shoulder. Daud rolled his eyes.

A minute and reassuring one of the nurses that he was fine, really, later, Daud had mopped up the mess and wiped the coffee off his trousers as best he could.

“Daud!” Emily came bounding up to him and, instinctively, Daud reached out.

“Careful,” he admonished her, “floor’s just been mopped.”

She grinned up at him at that. “I know, Corvo told me.”

“Of course he did,” Daud muttered. “Come on, let’s get back to your mother.”

“If they let you back in,” Emily returned swiftly.

“Is that why you came looking for me?” Daud asked. “To taunt me?“

Emily grinned at his only mostly pretend offence. “Maybe.”

“Thanks ever so much,” he rumbled, but took her proffered hand. For a minute, they walked in silence.

“Do you think it’s going to take very long?” Emily asked when they were almost by the ward.

“I’m not sure,” Daud answered honestly, pushing the heavy door open for her. “Corvo said she was in labour for nearly a day when you were born. And, well, this time it’s twins.”

Emily hummed thoughtfully. She was only seven, but she did that a lot, Daud had found.

Corvo was waiting for them outside the door to Jessamine’s room. “You found him,” he called to Emily, putting a hand on his chest in theatrical relief. To Daud, he said, “I’d begun to fear you lost.”

“Give over,” Daud grumbled, tugging Corvo closer with his free hand to kiss him briefly. “How’s our lady doing?”

“She’s fine. The doctor said it’d be another while.”

“I asked Daud how long he thought it would take, but he wasn’t sure,” Emily reported then, having taken Corvo’s hand as well and tugging on their arms.

“You know, you’d think for a man with four kids, he’d know,” Corvo teased.

“Unless he more or less accidentally adopted all of them,“ Daud tossed back. In that moment, Rinaldo stuck his head out the door, and gasped.

“We’re adopted??” he stage-whispered.

“Rin, stop harassing your fathers,“ Jessamine’s voice sounded from within the room. Emily giggled, and Corvo put his face in his hand.

Daud just prayed to the Void that, by the end of this, they’d have some of their wits left to actually raise the twins.


	32. hurt prompt: ‘i don’t feel sorry for you.’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the hurt prompt: I don't feel sorry for you. Pleeeeeese and thanks!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by ThreeWhiskeyLunch  
> inspiration: [Famous Blue Raincoat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cMyHm2nxTi4)

It was four in the morning, the end of the Month of High Cold. Tyvia was cold, but they liked where they lived. They were living for nothing, now.

Not at Dunwall Tower.

A witch Empress sat the throne, in the guise of a girl who had her father’s eyes and her mother’s hair — and the true _spirit_  of her aunt.

The discovery had come too late; of Delilah and Jessamine. Of _sisters_. And they had been too late. Delilah had entered the painting in the Void before they could reach her, and before their eyes, the ritual had taken their little girl and given her a stranger’s eyes. Then, the painting had dissolved, and the Void itself had cast them out.

They had tried to return to Dunwall Tower; intercepted only by Thomas and Rinaldo. ‘They’re all dead,’ they’d urged, ‘stay away.’

The Heart had wept all night.

They’d fled, north and north and north, until their breath turned to ice. They only had each other left.

When Corvo woke, Daud was gone.

He found him downstairs, at the window. It was snowing again.

“Exhausting yourself will not bring Thomas to us any more swiftly,” Corvo said quietly, leaning against the doorway. “Even less in this weather.”

“Every time he comes, I wish his news to change,” Daud murmured. “It never does, but neither do I. Does that make me a fool, even more of one than I was?”

“You’re not a fool.”

“No? Then who am I but the man who made all this possible?” Daud did not turn from the window. “I undermined one Empress’s reign and doomed another’s.”

“Daud—”

“I widowed you and robbed you of your daughter,” he rasped. “And yet you tell me you love me.” Finally, he did turn. “Does that make you a fool, too?“

“You did not widow me,” Corvo reminded him. “Nor did you take my daughter. You loved her as your own and you sought to save her. We failed.”

“I turned Billie against me, I led Delilah to our door—”

“Daud, please—“

“I don’t want your pity, Corvo!”

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” Corvo returned, “but for what you’ve done that still haunts you, and that is driving us apart!”

Silenced followed those words.

“If you would call me a fool for loving you, then what do you call yourself for loving me?”


	33. one-line prompts: Dumb Things and Fainting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 32 (or 75, depending on what you'd like) for the one-line prompts? Pretty Please?
> 
> 32\. “This is, by far, the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”  
> 75\. “You fainted, straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”
> 
> somehow, this became Rinaldo/Curnow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by darthfluff

Galia regarded Rinaldo critically.

**“This is, by far, the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”**

Rinaldo grinned at her, picking himself up from the damp tiles of the roof.

“But it _can_ be done.“

“What, on the off chance he won’t be there to catch you? Or, simply, won’t? Because, as you might have gathered, he thinks you’re a pest?“

“Aw, Galia, don’t be so mean. Of course he’ll catch me!”

Had she not been wearing her mask, she’d have covered her face with her hands.

“If you break your neck, Daud will raise you from the dead just to send you back on his terms, do you hear me?”

“Clear as a bell, sister.”

“We’re hardly that.”

“You saved me from an Overseer’s pistol, as you will not tire to remind me, so I daresay we are.“

With a huff, Galia transversed away. The boy would get himself killed, and for what? To impress a _guardsman_. A handsome guardsman, granted, but what use was it if you were dead? Or, worse, arrested.

* * *

Chancing another glance towards the Clocktower, the Captain assured himself it would only be another hour until he could escape the rain. It was a filthy night as only Dunwall would see fit to bestow it, and Curnow could barely see three feet in front of him.

It was only by sheer luck — albeit some might call it fate — that he heard a noise, that he looked up at all; and that he saw a figure up a low sloped roof, slipping and coming down towards him.

With less grace than he’d like and far more speed than he could afford on the slippery cobble stone, he lunged forward, roughly predicting where they might land and not certain in the slightest. Still, by some favour of the moment or possibly the Void, he reached them just in time and got his arms around one shoulder and, more or less, their waist as gloved hands landed on his arms and shoulder.

By the light of the streetlamp just above them, he glanced down to see — and found a mask staring back.

A Whaler’s mask.

One of their hands eased their grip on him and, instead, travelled up to remove the mask, revealing dark eyes and a wide grin. Familiar eyes, at that.

“So sorry, sir. I must have fainted.”

**“You _fainted_ straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”**

“Ah but it is all the more fun to surprise you.”

Curnow rolled his eyes. “Pest,” he said, hoping the fondness in his voice would be washed away by the rain.

“Aww, that’s what she said you’d think,” Escobar pretended to pout.

“Am I wrong?” Curnow challenged. Not that he’d let go, or stepped away. Or raised the alarm, either.

“Probably not. But I am _your_ pest.”

“You’re angling for a sentence, is what you are,” Curnow grumbled. At the teasing look levelled at him, he raised a brow. “And what now?”

“I’d much rather be _angling_ for something else.”

“I bet you do,” Curnow returned — and silenced any more smartass remarks… with a kiss.


	34. Fluff prompt: “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” (Corvo/Daud, contemporary AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by punch

Corvo woke with his limbs feeling heavy and his mind at ease for what felt like the first time in a while. He stretched under the covers, the sheets soft against his skin, and—oh. His skin. He felt warm and good and… very, very naked.

The bed beside him, however, was empty. Feeling his face fall, Corvo twisted to get a look at the alarm: 7.30am. Already, he thought. He sighed and let himself drop back into the pillows. Of course, they’d barely even talked about staying the _night_ , much less the morning; but Corvo had hoped they might at least wake up together.

Well. If he had to suffer being awake at half seven on a Sunday morning, he might as well get up, he decided. Emily wasn’t returning from her sleepover at her friend’s before the afternoon, so at least he had some time to himself to mope. Just one more of the thrilling challenges of being a single father — and of having an ill-advised crush on his daughter’s karate instructor, Corvo thought miserably. A crush that had led to flirtation and coffee and last night… to dinner. Corvo had felt ridiculously like making a booty call when he’d asked Daud out, invited him to dinner at home rather than at a restaurant simply because Emily would be at the Curnows’ for the weekend. Since her mother’s death, Corvo had used such an opportunity exactly once — and it had been to get horrifically drunk the week before the anniversary. Best to get it out of his system, he’d decided, and hadn’t touched a bottle since.

Now, it seemed, Daud too had gotten _it_ out of his system. Or, rather, Corvo.

Dinner had been fun, _good_ , and for all that Corvo had been nervous about his first date in six years, conversation with Daud had put him at ease in a way he hadn’t expected. They’d shared stories of home, among others — neither of them were Gristol natives and the shared experience of never quite belonging had been what had gotten them talking in the first place; after Daud had made an offhand comment when Corvo had come to pick Emily up from training.

Corvo sat up, rubbing his eyes and dragging a hand through his hair; instantly reminded of the way Daud had played with the strands as they’d fallen asleep… and of the way he’d tugged on it when sleep had been the furthest thing from their minds, too. Corvo sighed again. Moping it was, then, he thought, but something made him stop short when he got out of bed. There were clothes draped over the end of the bed, loosely folded but still neatly divided. His… and Daud’s, Corvo realised as he stared at the burgundy shirt. He remembered getting Daud out of it too well not to recognise it now. What was missing, however, was Corvo’s own shirt, it seemed.

Just then, Corvo heard something from down the hall. His heartbeat picking up, he reached for the first pair of pyjama bottoms he could find, blindly reaching into the drawer of his dresser. Finding the bedroom door ajar, he smirked. Daud had bullied him through it and then instantly pushed him up against it, their difference in height meaning nothing to his strength — not that Corvo had minded. Quite the opposite.

Calling himself back to the present, Corvo decided to bite the bullet and see his suspicions — his hopes — confirmed.

Following the quiet clattering of pans and cutlery, he found Daud in the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway, torn between clearing his throat and licking his lips: Daud was wearing Corvo’s dark blue shirt, his broad frame easily filling out the shoulders even as it was a bit long on him.

“Took me a minute to find my boxers,“ Daud rumbled without even looking up, as if he’d expected Corvo to come wandering in at precisely that moment. “One might think you wanted to hide them to keep them.”

Now, Corvo did clear his throat, feeling himself blush. “The best efforts of rats and men,” he murmured, not resisting a smile when Daud’s eyes found his. Suddenly self-conscious of his own bare chest, he looked down at himself. “Should I have worn yours?”

Daud grunted. “How about you spare me that heart attack until another time, hmm?”

Corvo’s gut kicked at the promise of ‘another time,’ but he managed not to grin like a loon as he walked up towards Daud. Coming to stand next to him at the stove, Corvo leaned forward to press a kiss against his cheek, receiving another jolt from his overexcited innards when Daud tilted his face into the touch.

“So,” he said quietly, drawing out the vowel as he fought another terrible impulse… and lost. “What’s cookin’, good-lookin’?“

Daud took half a step back, turned to look up at him, one hand on the handle of the pan and the other still holding the spatula. His face was carefully blank, but Corvo had learnt not to trust this man’s deadpan silences. So, he waited.

“You’re terrible,” Daud told him seriously. “Kiss me again.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corvo: panicking  
> everyone else: Of course, Corvo. Of COURSE Daud, the grumpiest asshole this side of New Haven, is just gonna shag the hot single father of one of his best students and then ghost him just to _get it out of his system_
> 
> ..... he had better believe Daud spent MONTHS overthinking this


	35. Angst & Fluff: "You've Always Felt Like Home."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You've Always Felt Like Home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by punch
> 
> soundtrack: [Stand Under My Love, by Diane Birch](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xm8w_gYLPIg&index=12&list=PLY1Uwm5rZ4zOVXyBOsEZlCATCUdaVFWrN).

Daud had made his name with steel in his hand, and in its shadow had hollowed out a city until it crumbled. But after twenty years, he was hollow, too; until none was left of the young boy who’d listen to his mother’s stories, listen as she’d teach him. He’d received his education on the edge of a blade — his mother’s dagger hidden in her dress, first, and later the knife with which he’d cut out his own past as he became the Knife of Dunwall. The Knife was no man, he was a scourge; his Whalers were an army of hollow, reflecting eyes.

Home, to Daud, was an illusion. He’d lived in a dozen cities before he was ten summers old; his life as transient as the circumstances of his birth. ‘Home’ ceased to exist when his mother was taken by the Overseers, when the other children at school began to spit after the witch’s orphan in their midst — when he was taken away. Once Daud was done struggling and biting, the man who took him promised him something better. A traveller, the man had called himself, a tradesman. His trade: death. Travelling with him, young men and women from across the Isles. Most of them had come willingly.

The traveller was not the first Daud killed, but he was not the last to hit the ground the day Daud left. Some might name it an escape, but had it been flight — or mutiny?

Daud had not set out to build an army of sharp metal and shadows, of blood and blades raised. They’d set out to find _him_. He would never seek them out, he swore; he would not search for death’s recruits.

When they returned to base after a job, sometimes he heard one of them say, ‘Let’s go home.’ Sometimes, he said it himself.

For all that his childhood had been that of a nomad, Karnaca had been his favourite: the capital of Serkonos, burrowing ever deeper into the foothills of the Peak as the city grew. He dared not wonder what had attracted him to Dunwall, then — perhaps simply that he’d fancied himself important. Where else could he make his mark, where else could he render his will upon the world than Dunwall, the seat of the Empire and its rulers?

He’d just returned to Gristol from his travels when someone else entered the city and its palace: a new Royal Protector. Corvo Attano — Lord Attano, now — from Karnaca, young and handsome, so they said, and chosen by the Princess for no reason but to rebel against her father.

Daud could feel no kinship.

Years passed, then decades, until Daud felt grey and worn and not an iota “better” than the one who’d set him on his path such a long time ago. The Void had had enough time to wind itself around his soul and shroud it in shadow as much as his conscience; and so it was that it felt his heart would rend itself in two when Daud made a mistake to dwarf all his others. There were many: he broke a contract. He warned his mark, corrupted the soul of the last honest man in the Empire, and still he failed. He fell in love.

He knew himself for the fool he was, and yet he made promises he would not keep — but they were none to Corvo and all to his own face staring back from the mirror when he shaved. He would not lie to Corvo. If Corvo were to ask, he’d answer; only Corvo did not. Did not ask, did not demand the truth. Still Daud would perjure himself every time they kissed, every time silence was as good as a lie.

He helped Emily take the throne when she was eleven; he protected her from a witch that had designs on the throne when she was twelve. And when she was thirteen, he left. Leaving Dunwall behind was hard not because it was home but because it held his secrets, his time; and some that remained there, his trust. ‘Home’ was nothing so simple as a city. But he could not stay, as much was plain.

He felt the Arcane Bond weaken until it strained and broke.

He felt his heart grow heavy with each sea mile he put between him and Corvo.

He travelled. He followed his feet and learnt how to see more in the faces of others than their weaknesses and faults, their secrets and ambitions. He cared little for politics. The years passed more slowly, now.

He should have known that the past would find him, eventually.

When news reached him of a man with his powers and a strange knife, he returned to Dunwall as quickly as he could. Stealing into the Tower felt too much as it had all those years ago. It felt too much like coming home.

“Daud!” Corvo jumped up from his chair, then stopped. “It’s… it’s really you.”

“Corvo.” Daud held himself equally still. When Corvo didn’t say anything else, Daud cleared his throat. “Tell me about Zhukov.”

So Corvo did, and an hour later, they stood poring over maps and reports from Brigmore and other cemeteries across the city. For a while, neither of them spoke.

“I know Dunwall’s not your home, nor the one you’d choose,” Corvo broke the quiet at length. “All the more, I’m grateful for your return.”

“You asked,” Daud said simply. Corvo’s letter had been short, to the point — he’d sent out half a dozen, messengers scattered across the Isles to try and track him down. No doubt Corvo had told them how. He was the only one Daud would _let_ find him. Surely, Corvo knew.

He’d not tried before.

“Kieron said he found you in Karnaca,” Corvo continued. “If forced to wager where you would be, I don’t think I would’ve chosen there.”

“It’s a good place to be,” Daud returned, and before Corvo could answer, added, “but it’s not home. Not mine, anyway.”

“Then why settle there?”

“Because I had no other place left.“

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Daud sighed. “It’s a lie. Or, enough of one.” At Corvo’s confused silence, he shrugged. “I went to Karnaca because it came closest to the place I wanted but couldn’t be.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you?” Daud turned to face Corvo, thoughts at war. What use was it to tell him now? But then, what use was it to keep the secret? It would be too little, too late. “It’s you, Corvo. You’ve… always felt like home.”

Corvo could not but stare at him, and Daud smiled somewhat bitterly.

“I know I was a coward when it counted. When I left you. But you were it, Corvo. And now, Karnaca’s my home and my penance, for all that it reminds me of you.” Daud averted his gaze, went back to the documents strewn across Corvo’s desk.

“Daud—“

“I’ll hunt Zhukov with you, and then I’ll go back and you never have to see my face again.”

“Daud.” A hand covered his where it rested on the table top. “What if I told you it wasn’t too late?” Corvo waited until Daud looked back up at him, disbelief in every line of his face. “What if I told you it would have never been too late?”

“I’d take you for a fool,” Daud rasped.

Unbelievably, Corvo smiled. “Call me a fool, then.” Slowly, he raised his arms, and as Daud stepped into the circle of his embrace and buried his face in Corvo’s shoulder, he feared he’d not find the strength to leave this time.


	36. "You have no idea how much I want you right now."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fffffor the prompts, "You have no idea how much I want you right now." and corvodaud??? hhhhh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by anon

Corvo caught himself looking towards the window for what had to be the fifth time in ten minutes. He’d just returned to his quarters after a meeting with Curnow, and how ought to be busy with Watch reports and the Whalers’ notes on several targets they had been watching this past week.

Instead, Corvo found his thoughts straying outside of the Tower, outside of Dunwall; to the trading ships coming in from Tyvia today. Daud had promised to return within a fortnight of the Fugue — it had been just over a week.

Corvo forced his attention back to the documents littering his desk; is just so he could prove himself not to have been idle in Daud’s absence. He got about three sentences further down the page when he felt something odd in the air around him — a shift; and not the kind that came from a draft through an open window; although he had left his ajar, just in case…

Corvo raised his head and scanned the room. Finding it predictably empty, he wanted to turn when suddenly there was a deep, rumbling voice in his ear.

“Don’t move.”

Even as Corvo’s hackles rose at being caught off guard, tension quickly ran into anticipation.

“You’re home,” was all he said, a chill running down his spine when large, strong hands descended on his shoulders and began kneeing the muscles of his back.

“You’re only wearing a shirt,” Daud replied, “in the middle of the day.” His thumbs dug into Corvo’s neck, and Corvo nearly moaned. “What if someone were to call on you? The Council? What if there’s an emergency?”

“Are you trying to make me feel guilty for dressing down?” Corvo returned. No sooner had he finished speaking than that voice was back in his ear, lips brushing the lobe deliberately.

“I’m trying to find out of my Lord Protector has anything _interesting_ in his diary today.”

Corvo leaned his head back to be able to see Daud’s face.

“Let me up and I might just tell you.”

Daud’s hands left his shoulders, and Corvo waited until he stepped away before he pushed back the chair and stood. Finally face to face, Daud stepped around the chair, crowding Corvo against the desk. Corvo reached for him in the same breath, cradling his beloved face in his hands. He brushed his thumb over a fresh cut above Daud’s left cheek. Now was not the time to ask for details, but he had no doubt there would be some interesting tales in the telling of Daud’s mission.

Impatient, Daud surged forward, commanding Corvo’s lips in a kiss; his arms wrapping around Corvo’s waist. When he broke the kiss, he whispered, “You have no idea how much I want you right now.”

Corvo smiled. “Show me.”


	37. “you can barely stand”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe... “are those bandages?” and/or “you can barely stand” for Corvo/Daud?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by readbythestarlight

It was only the third time that Corvo made his way into the Flooded District for his ‘lessons’ with Daud. He was late — the night before, he’d assisted the City Watch in a raid in the Distillery District; on special request of Captain Curnow. This morning, Curnow had taken up station in his office to go over the results and the possibility of bringing charges before a judge in at least a few of their arrests. So now, Corvo was relying heavily on his new-found abilities to make his way into the abandoned district as quickly as he could.

Once he arrived at the Chamber, he wasted no time in making his way towards Daud’s office; no longer concerned about the Whalers watching his approach — or at least, not _as_ concerned as he might have been. Once there, he let himself in through one of the tall glass doors.

“Attano,” Daud greeted him from his position at the ‘desk.’ He stood with his hands braced on top of the crate, an open book and reports in front of him.

“Daud.” Corvo stopped in the middle of the room, expecting Daud to join him so they might spar; but Daud didn’t move. “Daud?” Looking closer, Corvo couldn’t shake the impression that something was amiss — Daud’s stance seemed to favour his left leg, and there was more tension in his left shoulder then the right. Curious and impatient, Corvo blinked up beside him — and found something peeking out from under his sleeve.

“Are those bandages?”

“It’s nothing.” Daud pushed away from the crate, no doubt realising his mistake, and squared his shoulders. “We can train.” The tension around his eyes told Corvo otherwise.

“Train? You can barely stand up straight,” Corvo countered. “Where’s Lurk?”

Daud rolled his eyes, but made the concession of leaning against the crate. “She left me to my misery, as she called it. I wouldn’t let her call for Aedan.”

“Why not?”

“He’s in the Estate District on recon; and will be for the next few days. He doesn’t have time to come back here to do a patch-up job I can just as well do myself.“

“Can you?” Corvo did not mean to sound so sarcastic; nor quite so _engaged_ with what was clearly none of his business.

“Don’t you start.” Now, Daud pushed himself up once again, and reached for his blade. “Come on. Leave the mother henning to Lurk. And don’t,“ he jabbed a finger into Corvo’s chest, “pull your punches. I’ll know.”

Corvo pushed Daud’s arm away. “In your dreams, Knife.”

Daud nodded approvingly. “That’s the spirit.”

As they took up their positions in the middle of the office, Corvo wondered who would be bleeding first; and just why Daud always seemed to need to have the last word.


	38. “Who hurt you?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst and Fluff: 49 with the Royal Ot3. Im not sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by darthfluff

No-one denied the Empress.

Jessamine Kaldwin had inherited her empire — bookies, thieves, gun runners all — from her father; if not her title. She’d claimed it for herself the day Andrej Olaskir’s head was found on his widow’s doorstep. Dunwall was hers, now; and her people follower without hesitation. Her hold on the streets north of the Wrenhaven was absolute; and the gangs by the Riverfront and south of the water knew better than to try and wrestle it from her. They were happy with their territory — or else.

Corvo Attano, her right-hand man, her lieutenant, was a soldier from Serkonos; her enforcer was a man whose name none dared utter in the dark, for fear he’d step out of the shadows. Daud. An experienced assassin who had once worked against the Kaldwins and now for them, he wasn’t the sort of man you crossed and lived to tell the tale. The only word that could save you was that of the Empress — and royal pardons were worth several cities.

No-one defied the Empress.

* * *

“Fuck!” Corvo gritted out through his teeth as helping hands heaved him from the car. He clutched his right side, blood seeping through his shirt and then his hands.

“Thomas, get the Empress, _now_ ,” Daud bellowed as he shouldered Rinaldo out of the way and took the brunt of Corvo’s weight himself.

“What if she’s not here yet,” Corvo grunted.

“She arrived at the safe house five minutes ago. I told you, remember,” Daud reassured him as best he could. As they made their way towards the elevator, he prayed to whatever god there was in the Void that it was true.

* * *

As Piero tended to Corvo in the master bedroom, Jessamine and Daud paced up and down the corridor, discharged from the room on grounds of ‘hovering.’ Fifteen minutes passed, then thirty. Jessamine reached for Daud’s hand.

“We can’t lose him.”

“So we won’t.”

* * *

“Corvo.” Someone was calling for him. “Corvo, love. Wake up.”

Slowly, he fought to open his eyes. Jess. Daud. He breathed a sigh of relief. Not dead yet. Hands were holding both of his.

“Corvo.” Jess. “Daud says he didn’t see the one who did this.”

Corvo closed his eyes again, shaking his head. No. Not yet.

“Corvo.” He knew that voice. It was so cold. “Who hurt you?”

No-one would deny the Empress her revenge. And Daud would carry it out as his own. As they always would.


	39. “I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No. 40 with Corvo and Daud for the fluff/angst prompts, PLEASE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by skyofseptember

The bedroom was dark, only a sliver of moonlight filtering in through the curtains. Daud watched the man beside him drift off into slumber and suppressed a sigh. Softly, carefully, he reached out to brush away a strand of dark hair that had fallen into Corvo’s face. He didn’t stir.

“You were never part of the plan,” he murmured.

The damned plan.

The first rule of the con: be confident, but forgettable. People had to give him whatever he wanted when he wanted it, but then forget him the moment he left them to their business. In the old days, when things were _personal_ , the true talent of the confidence man had been to make himself indispensable — and then to disappear so completely that no-one would ever be able to find him. Now, with technology doing people’s thinking and for them, they still believed they could trust their gut.

They’d be wrong.

He was ready. The extraction was set up: his new alias, the false leads that would set anyone who tried to find him on a wild goose chase across the country. The money, just waiting to be wired to an encrypted, off-shore account of his choosing.

The farewell; in that there wasn’t going to be one. No grand gestures, no… drawn-out goodbyes. He would be there one night and gone the next. His phone number untraceable, his apartment empty, and his identity abandoned. No-one would think to look for _him_. There would be no connection between the disappearance of an employee of whom there wasn’t any record, and the theft of a few million dollars. No-one would know the money was even gone — and no-one would miss _him_.

Well.

Wouldn’t have. If Daud hadn’t made one colossal mistake.

That night, he’d invited Corvo for dinner. Had made a dish that his mother had taught him that he’d never shared with anyone, jealously guarding his closest secrets as any conman should; only ever coasting through the lie on a grain of truth. After dinner, he’d led Corvo through the apartment and into bed. He’d taken his time.

It’d be his last chance, after all.

Daud was torn from his contemplation of Corvo’s face when his phone buzzed on the nightstand. Quickly, he turned to pick it up, getting out of bed as swiftly as he could so as not to wake Corvo. He closed the bedroom door behind him and answered.

“Rin, for fuck’s sake, what is it?”

“Sorry to call so late, boss,” Escobar apologised. “I just wanted to confirm you’re arriving on Wednesday, as expected.”

Daud pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, of course I’ll be there, why wouldn’t I be?” He hesitated. He knew Billie liked to keep tabs on him during jobs — had she seen something she shouldn’t? “Did Lurk put you up to this?”

“Lurk? No!” Rinaldo was an excellent liar — just not good enough to fool Daud.

“Rinaldo,” he growled. “Tell Lurk I’ll be back at the base in three days, _with_ the money. And tell her to butt out of my business.”

“Right. Of course. Sorry, boss. Uh—good night.”

“Night.” Daud hung up and put his hands on his hips, letting out a breath. Always one more fire, wasn’t there?

“Daud?”

Daud wheeled around, finding Corvo in the hallway behind him, light from the bedside lamp just bright enough that Daud could see his worried expression.

“What did you mean? What base? And what money?”

Fuck.

“It’s nothing,” Daud waved Corvo’s concern away. “Let’s go back to bed.”

“No.” Corvo put himself between Daud and the bedroom door. “Tell me.”

“Corvo,” Daud tried to cajole, “we’re stark-bollock naked in a hallway. Come back to bed. Sleep. We both have an early day tomorrow.”

“Are you being blackmailed?”

“I—what?” Daud couldn’t believe it. Was Corvo really that naive — that trusting? Or just… that in love?

“Is someone blackmailing you? Is that what this is about?”

“Corvo—”

“Let me help.” Now, all Daud could do was stare. “You know I have contacts in law enforcement. Captain Curnow still owes me a favour.”

“Corvo, stop.”

“I want to help you! I won’t let you deal with this alone,” Corvo protested. “I love you.”

And that did it. Daud hung his head and closed his eyes. There it was again, that pressure in his chest — whenever he lied to Corvo about where he was going, about his past… as many truths as he’d told him that he’d never shared with anyone else, there had still been _so many lies_.

“I’m not being blackmailed,” he rumbled quietly.

“Good, I—that’s good. But then why—”

“Corvo, I’m a thief.”

“What?”

“I’m a thief — a conman.” Daud watched as Corvo processed the words. And, _fuck_ , they were still naked in a hallway. “I’ve been reallocating funds from within different departments for the last six months; enough to gather just over three million.”

“You—you’re a criminal.”

“Yes.” _Astute observation_ , Daud barely bit back the words. Corvo usually appreciated his acerbic sense of humour. He probably wouldn’t tonight.

“You lied to me. You’ve _been_ lying to me.”

“Yes.”

“Was I—was I your way in?”

Daud shook his head. “No, Corvo, you… you weren’t part of the plan. You were _never_ part of the plan.”

Corvo scoffed. “Then what was I? A _mistake_?”

“Yes,” Daud answered bluntly.

There was so much hurt on Corvo’s face that Daud felt it as his own. “You lied to me. And I fell for it. I fell for _you_.” He turned on his heel, marching back into the bedroom. Rooted to the spot, Daud had to fight to follow. When he did, he found Corvo gathering up his clothes.

“Corvo, don’t—”

“Don’t what? Don’t leave? Don’t call the police?“ Corvo turned on him.

“Do whatever you have to do,” Daud said quietly. “But please don’t leave thinking that tonight wasn’t real. Or… any of the nights before.”

Corvo merely shook his head. “I can’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth, can I. Everything you told me was a lie.”

“That’s not true.” Daud bit his tongue. Why was he fighting this? If anything this should make leaving _easier_ , shouldn’t it? But he needed so badly to make Corvo know this; this one bit of truth he had left. “Corvo, I… I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you.”

Corvo stopped in the middle of putting on his shirt.

“I wasn’t lying.”

Slowly, Corvo turned to face him. There was hurt still lingering, but curiosity, too. And _hope_.

“Come with me,” Daud found himself saying, and he was a fool, thousand times a fool for saying it. “Come with me, and I’ll show you. And if you still want me gone, then I’ll…” He’d what? Turn himself in?

“We’d be fugitives,” Corvo surprised him with a whisper.

“We’d be rich.” Hardly daring to, Daud reached out to take Corvo’s hand. “Corvo. Please.“

“I don’t know.”

“I do.” Daud tugged him closer. “Come away with me.”


	40. pillow talk (and a voice kink)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for Corvo/Daud: Daud suspects Corvo has a voice kink (pillow talk)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by threewhiskeylunch

Daud… had a suspicion. A sneaking suspicion to do with Corvo, himself, their bed — and Daud’s voice.

It was, on the one hand, a riddle fairly pedestrian to solve. Of course, there were the nights when Daud murmuring in Corvo’s ear would send him crashing over the edge and crying out into the dark, but what interested Daud far more, at least in this moment, was how Corvo liked to… keep him talking, when they were in bed.

The way he nestled into Daud’s chest, arms wrapped around him and legs tangled, in any state of dress (or undress), and encouraged him to tell him things. To talk about his day training the Whalers, to gripe about the nobles he’d been keeping an eye on. Sometimes, to talk about the past as well, minefield though that subject was.

When he did, Corvo nuzzled his neck or put his head down on Daud’s chest, and was content to listen; only talking enough himself to keep the conversation, as it were, going, or to ask a question for more details.

It didn’t always end in sex, mind. Most nights, they were exhausted enough already to get up to much mischief, and Corvo would usually fall asleep first, listening to Daud talk. The first few times had been strange — what with Daud barely used to talking about himself, or to talking, full stop. He’d never been a man of many words except in his own damn journals. But for Corvo… he found himself making the effort, until it didn’t take any effort at all; until they went to bed and settled in and Daud offered a brief rendition of whatever he’d found strange, annoying, or (not as rarely as one might suspect) amusing that day.

This had now gone on for a few months, and Daud was happy to let it, but he had a question to ask of the man who’d so deftly stolen his heart and quite refused to give it back. (Not that he wanted it. He was Corvo’s now, and that was the end of it.)

“Corvo,” he rumbled that night, just after Corvo had made himself comfortable, his head tucked under Daud’s chin. (Daud would have once thought it silly, to sleep this way when Corvo was so much taller than him; but after everything that had happened, he thought he understood Corvo’s need to feel safe, and watched over as he slept.)

“Hmm,” Corvo hummed.

“Tell me: are you in love with me, or my voice?” Daud asked it lightly, enough humour in his tone to let Corvo know he spoke in jest; but he did still want an answer.

Corvo’s head rose from his chest, and Daud would swear he was blushing, just a little.

“I, um,” Corvo said eloquently, and Daud bit the inside of his cheek not to laugh before the game was up. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Mmh, as long as you don’t elope without the rest of me,” Daud returned, letting himself grin when Corvo’s expression turned into an exasperated glare; then grunted when Corvo pinched his side under the covers. “Ow,” he informed him.

“Serves you right,” Corvo growled, then stretched up to stow Daud’s reply with a kiss. “I love you both, how’s that for honesty?”

Daud smiled. “Just fine.” He kissed Corvo again. “Now get comfortable, I’ve been waiting to tell you about Lord Brackenhurst all evening.”


	41. drabble prompts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Unbind me” and/or “quiet me” for CorvoDaud?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by readbythestarlight

**[Unbind me](https://screwtheprinceimtakingthehorse.tumblr.com/post/180030760436/captain-james-tiberius-derp) **

“Shit,” Daud grunted as he dropped into the hole in the ground that was barely worth calling a cell. “Attano.” He crouched low and crept closer. 

Attano groaned. “Who’s there?”

Dear old Granny must have done a number on their erstwhile Royal Protector, ever ready for a fight. Daud wondered just how he’d displeased her, to find himself bound with ropes, his arms bent back — perhaps the tales of the Masked Felon helping Slackjaw take back Bottle Street had been the last straw. Daud hesitated: helping Corvo now would only lead him closer. But then, it was what he deserved.

* * *

**[Quiet me](https://screwtheprinceimtakingthehorse.tumblr.com/post/180030760436/captain-james-tiberius-derp) **

“Attano!” Daud barked. “Void’s sake, listen!”

This was the last thing he had expected — a knife at his throat, a fight, _begging for his life_ , but not this. The moment he’d felt the Void stir, he’d readied himself. But then the speakers had announced Havelock’s regency. And then, the first chair had flown across the room.

Attano turned, mask back in place, shoulders heaving.

“I understand,” Daud tried to reason, “but smashing what furniture I have left isn’t the way.”

“Then what is?” Attano growled.

Daud weighed his answer. ‘Kill me,’ was one. ‘Kingsparrow Island,’ the other. Time to choose.


	42. drabble prompts: "kill me" / "haunt me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "kill me" + "haunt me" put into one for corvo/daud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by anon

As Corvo threw Daud’s body over the parapet, as he made sure that the last thing Daud’s lightless eyes saw was the statue of the Empress he’d murdered, the symbol of the city he’d so callously condemned to death and ruin, there was a part of him that knew that he would never find satisfaction. Not in this moment, not in any other. He looked forward to plunging Pathmaker into Havelock’s chest and a bullet in the back of Burrows’ head, but none of it would bring her back. None of it would rewind the six months he had spent in agony, doubting after a while even his own recollection of the moment.

He hadn’t killed her.

Or had he?

He had ghosts. Learnt to live with them. The Heart in his hand and her voice in his ear, he moved through Dunwall on his quest for vengeance. There was a hole in the world, and it lived inside him.

The first night he heard another voice, deep and strained, he refused to believe it. The second, he turned on the narrow cot and screwed shut his eyes. The third, he sat up.

_Hello, Corvo._

Another ghost, then. Fine.

“Daud.”


	43. drabble challenge: 13/99

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst prompt list: 13 - “I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.” and/or 99 - “I fell in love with you, not them.” for CorvoDaud?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked by readbythestarlight

When they found Corvo, he was delirious with fever, his body heaving.

He was dying.

“Take him to my office,” Daud barked. Rulfio and Galia hesitated. “Go!”

Tyvian poison, he’d smelled it on Corvo’s breath. They had, perhaps, an hour.

He worked quickly, digging into the chest filled with herbs and river krust acid himself, recalling everything his mother had taught him. Tyvian poison was tricky, often laced with unpredictable ingredients.

To make _sure_. Those bastards.

He bent low over the cot.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.”

Corvo’s shivers did not ease.

* * *

Daud saved Corvo’s life that day.

Tonight, he’s in Corvo’s study, frowning at reports and making notes in the margins that, hopefully, will serve to secure Emily’s reign. It’s a hope he shares, even if it still feels foreign in his chest. Just as the warmth that resides there whenever he dares a glance at the man across from him.

“Admit it, you enjoy moving among the aristocracy,” Corvo taunted him once during training, up on a slippery rooftop. “And your freedom.”

“I fell in love with you, not them,” Daud returned easily. He was a fool, he knew.

Corvo kissed him nonetheless.


	44. Angst & Fluff: "I could never forget you." + "We're meant for each other."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: “from the angst/fluff list, nos 89+77, maybe with a flashback to children or teenagers corvodaud in karnaca?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for briecks

These are not moments Corvo understands. They live disjointed in his mind, sharp and bright. Too loud. There is pain in his heart and fire everywhere else. On his hands, on his face. One day they ripped what was left of his shirt and pressed the brand to his chest and he fought not to scream. He thinks he may have forgotten how to, now. There is no air left in his lungs, as though he’s drowning, but there is no water. They barely feed him, why should they bring him water?

He wakes and there is darkness, and at least the stone is cold against his side. He almost turns his cheek into it, but then there is a sound. A boot, on stone. A light tread, but audible. Deliberate. Corvo understands, he _hears_ , only he doesn’t comprehend why. Why does this stand out to him when so little else does?

“Get him out,” a low voice grates.

The door to his cell unlocks — the doors in this block only give way to keys, not like the others. There is no bell, no siren, to warn the guards. Perhaps that, tonight, is his good fortune. Perhaps it is that, from here, he can see the executioner’s block. He’s had much time to look.

There are hands on him, robust, wrapped in leather, and he wonders whether he should shrink away. It’s too late now. They heave him up, turn him towards the door. The light blinds him, for a moment, and he’s caught between blinking and rubbing his eyes and telling the hands that still grip his arms to keep him from falling down that he can walk on his own. In lieu of words, he resists when the hands mean to nudge him along.

A sigh, from his right. A gesture:  _What are we supposed to do?_

“Let him go.”

The hands disappear. They obey, Corvo wonders.

If he were a mule, he’d kick. If he were a bloodox, he’d charge at the red that he catches glimpses of as he rights himself. He shakes his head to clear it, regrets the movement, and then regrets it more when his vision clears instead of his thoughts and he finds a man, standing outside his cell.

The man in red. The one who eats at his dreams, even here. Oblivion should have come for him long ago, and yet what he finds, who he finds, is _him_.

It always used to be him.

“Come with me,” he says, as if it’s an invitation. As if it’s a choice.

But isn’t it? If Corvo lies back down right now, if he refuses to go — what will he do? Will he have his obeying hands pick him up and carry him out, kicking and screaming, if he can remember how? Will he force him?

The other question is: will Corvo choose death over another second in his presence?

* * *

“Daud, no!” Corvo laughed, and laughed harder when the other boy nearly dropped out of the tree, letting out a yelp at the way the branch he was climbing lurched beneath his weight. “You’re going to fall!”

“Am not!” Another inch, another lurch, fingertips grasping — and then, a triumphant cheer. “Aha!”

“Come down, you idiot!”

“Yes, yes, keep your pants on, Attano.” Daud made his way quickly back down the tree, landing on his feet a few metres away from Corvo. “Or not, seeing as a I got you this,” he smirked as he tossed Corvo one of the pears he’d plucked. They were ripe already, and squishy with it, and Corvo rolled his eyes.

“I’m not mooning you for a pear,” he said, then quickly bit into the fruit as a way of hiding his embarrassment at the childish retort. He was still finding his way into his limbs and his ideas, and the idea of Daud was altogether strange. But here they were, spending yet another afternoon in no-one’s company but each other’s.

They’d go swimming and diving in the bay, plucking up sunken treasures from the bottom and selling them to dock workers and merchants for a coin because there was nothing else to do. Daud was good with his hands, and if Corvo’s mother knew he was teaching Corvo picking pockets, she’d have words for him that weren’t, “Oh there you are, dear boy.”

They had homes but at their hearts they were street rats of Karnaca, and they knew them like the backs of their hands. Sometimes they used that to run from a guard, and other times to spy on them and those they protected. Seeing how the other half lived was never dull. Just disheartening.

Corvo caught, for the hundredth time, on one of the posters announcing the upcoming Blade Verbena.

“I’m going to win, next time,” he said, also for the hundredth time. Daud let him, then took him by the hand and led him on towards the market.

* * *

In the end, it’s not a decision either of them has to make. An alarm breaks out in another part of the prison, and the start of it jolts Corvo into movement. Towards the door. Towards the man.

“Just come,” he growls. It’s all he says.

They pass unconscious guards, opened doors that should have been closed.

“Quickly.”

An explosion has ripped the steel doors apart, but that’s not where they’re headed.

“Can you climb?”

Corvo nods. _You know I can_ , he thinks. He doesn’t say it.

“Then climb.”

This is how Corvo sees the place of his execution, then. He’s a night early.

* * *

They crawl through the sewers until they’re at a canal leading out into the river, and there’s a boat and a boatman.

“I can’t believe it,“ he says, drops his cigarette in the muck. “I’m Samuel. Samuel Beechworth.”

Corvo nods, and wonders why it matters. Samuel takes his answer for what it is and turns to the others.

“Back to the Chamber?”

“Yes.”

* * *

So the rumours are true. He is hiding out here, with his shadows and his wild hounds. Corvo had heard so many stories. He’d not believed them all.

“Do you want to sit, or do you want to punch me first?” he’s asking now, and Corvo turns to him. There are clothes piled on a crate nearby, and he knows they’re for him.

“I want to kill you,” Corvo says, or tries to, because his throat is parched and his voice is shattering like glass. But the words are out, and they are understood, clearly as little else is. Corvo can see it in his shoulders. Not because he knows him. But because he knows men like him.

“Not yet,” is what he answers, and he might as well shrug for all the weight he lends those words. “First, you’ll listen.”

* * *

Knives do not regret the blood that is painted into their grooves.

The Knife of Dunwall claims that he does.

“You were never meant to be there.”

“You weren’t supposed to come to harm.”

“When Burrows suggested for you to be framed, I said no.”

He’s been saying all these things, and more besides. He speaks, and keeps talking, while Corvo picks up a bundle of clothes and heads up the stairs to dress; while another obedient hand brings in food for both of them and watches Corvo, for a moment, through the mask.

“I’m chasing a witch,” he says. “My mother warned me never to make an enemy of a witch. But for you, I’ll do it.”

“For me?” Corvo asks. He musters some derision. It’s almost as good as hatred. “For _me_?”

The other blinks at him. For the first time in a while, he stays silent. He’s waiting.

“Why didn’t you let me die?” Is it the question he should be asking? ”Why did you come? Why didn’t you _forget_ about me?“

“I could never forget you,” he says, and Corvo knows he means more than this. He knows he means the day he disappeared, the day he didn’t meet Corvo at the docks to dive. The day he didn’t come.

There’s twenty years between that day and now, between the sun making Corvo squint as he searched the city for his friend and the rain clouds looming over Dunwall like giants. Twenty years and more — a lifetime. A life. Hers, and his.

He never told her.

“That’s the trouble with us,” Daud is saying now. “We’re meant for each other. To remember each other. To love each other. To destroy each other.” He hands Corvo a notebook. “But first, we have a job to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry — insomnia produces angst.


	45. Four word prompt: "You don't want me." (OT3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You don't want me" for the royal ot3. Go ahead and break my heart, I know you want to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Resri <3

“Boss,” Rulfio burst through the door to Daud’s office without knocking, and he would’ve received a stern address for it had it not been for his next words: “The Overseers got Attano. He was on patrol alone.”

Daud dropped the reports he was holding, didn’t bother stubbing out his cigarette, and barked for Thomas.

Barely five minutes later, they were racing towards Dunwall Tower.

‘What if they’ve already got him in the chair,’ Daud permitted himself to wonder exactly once, vaulting on top of the bridge connecting Rudshore to the Tower District. This was no time for doubt.

When they arrived, the Empress had already been told. Fleet stood guard outside the door to her and Attano’s quarters.

“Curnow was there when we reached her,” she said, saluting as she spoke. “He wants to help.”

Daud gnashed his teeth, but only for a moment. Then, he nodded. Galia stepped aside, and he entered the, by now, familiar rooms. So many late night visits, ever since he had decided that the Crown would make a better patron than Hiram Burrows and his hunger for order. They had disposed of him quietly, he and Corvo, and of his co-conspirators — all apart from one. Campbell. And with Corvo touched by the Void — against Daud’s intention, against his _wishes_ — he was now in even more danger.

When he entered, his eyes sought Jessamine’s, and found her returning his gaze with quiet fury.

“Why was he out alone?“ Daud growled, barely acknowledging Curnow with a nod.

“He had a hunch,” she said, as exasperated of the notion as he was, and he hid a sigh. “I told him to go to you.”

“Why didn’t he?” Daud returned, hoping he sounded angry, or disappointed at least. Anything but as pained as he felt at the thought that Corvo still did not trust him.

“He wanted to be sure,” she answered, as if that explained it.

“What, does he think he’s got something to prove?” When he saw him, he would like to shake some sense into him, Daud thought. Only, it wasn’t his place.

Jessamine sent him a glance he did not rightly recognise.

“Where did he go?” he asked instead.

“Timsh,” she said, her eyes darting towards Curnow, who in turn looked up from a map of the Estate District, spread out on her desk, in surprise. “Something about his connections to Rothwild didn’t sit right with him, but he wouldn’t say more.”

Daud clenched his fist and braced himself against the top of the desk. Damned Attano and his secrecy.

“How long has he been at Holger Square, at the least?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Two hours,” Rulfio answered. “We picked up chatter on the street pretty quickly.”

Daud turned towards Curnow fully. “We need a distraction.”

Curnow smiled grimly. “I’ve been waiting to speak to Campbell myself for a long time.”

Daud nodded. “Take at least two men. He’s been waiting for you, too.” He looked back at Jessamine. “I’ll get him back,” he said plainly, not thinking of how much he wanted to reach out to her. He knew better — he had never been one for comfort.

Mindful of their audience, or perhaps simply because that was all there was to it, the Empress nodded.

*

Perhaps Campbell had underestimated the Empress, or perhaps they had underestimated, incredibly, Campbell’s arrogance, but when they reached Holger Square roughly at the same time as Curnow and three of his officers alighted the rail car that had taken them from the Tower, the Overseers had not yet made any effort to get Corvo in the interrogation room. Instead, they had him bound and gagged in an otherwise empty room — gagged, as if afraid he might curse them with black magic. Daud left Thomas, Rulfio, and Galia by the windows and the door, and approached Corvo’s unconscious form slowly. He was breathing, but it felt shallow. Still sedated, then, and Daud cursed. Corvo had not yet built up full resistance to toxins and sedatives, but he’d come far enough that, to keep him under for this long, the Overseers must have given him enough to kill a bloodox. They had to get him out of here and to Sokolov and Piero, quickly.

As he bent to release Corvo’s bindings, he thought of Campbell, sitting fat and smug in his office. He thought of that interrogation room, that chair. The brand. The poison darts hidden inside the fingertips of Whalers’ gloves. Too many had used them, over the years, and Campbell had delighted in every single one. Daud’s fingers tightened on the hilt of his knife.

But it was not what he had come here to do.

He heaved Corvo up and over his shoulder. At least Curnow would be able to fulfil a dream tonight.

Returning to Dunwall Tower was tedious and excruciating, not helped, of course, by Corvo’s weight which seemed to increase with every step — not because Daud was getting old, though he was, and not because the journey seemed to get longer every time, which it did; but because of the worry Daud refused to show.

*

It was another hour until Sokolov and Piero had both attended to Corvo, had given him enough stimulants and elixir to keep him up for the next three sunrises, and pronounced him healthy as a horse. It was another three until Corvo woke, finally, blinking open his eyes. Daud fought not to sag with relief, and was grateful for the distraction of Jessamine rushing to lean forward over Corvo, and kissing him.

“You foolish man,” she whispered, and Daud thought there may have been tears in her eyes. Now that the danger had passed, she allowed herself to relinquish the mask the Empress wore day in, day out. Certainly around him, but even around Corvo and Emily. “Daud got you back,” she added with a wavering smile, and Daud wanted to hide when Corvo’s eyes moved to him.

“Of course he did,” Corvo answered, his voice heavy with the vestiges of forced sleep. He quirked a lip. “I’m sorry he had to come out all this way.”

“You shouldn’t have gone alone,” Daud grumbled, then mentally scolded himself. “Next time, come to me,” he said, the words out before he’d quite decided on them. But it was what he wanted, was it not? It was a right he’d not earned, keeping Corvo safe. But he wanted it nonetheless. Even if… even if they never wanted him.

“He promises,” Jessamine surprised him, then, and surprised him further still when she let go of Corvo’s hand, stood, rounded the bed and came to stand in front of him.

Out of reflex, and habit, he stood, uncertain what to make of her. She was not nearly as secretive as Corvo, but she mystified him still.

“Thank you,” she whispered, smiling fully now. Before he could answer, or even nod, he found himself floundering when she stretched up and kissed his cheek.

“I—” he started, then stopped, his eyes flickering to Corvo, whose expression was inscrutable. Of course it damned well was. “You don’t want me,” he blurted, cursing himself immediately.

“Oh Daud,” Jessamine said almost sadly, her hand coming to rest on his chest, two fingers hooking underneath his bandola. “You have no idea, do you?”

He did not dare answer.

“ _We_ want you,” she continued then, her eyes on his and her lips so inviting. “It was time you knew.”

“She’s right,” Corvo agreed, and Daud’s insides twisted into knots. “Even if her sense of opportunity is terrible. I can’t even stand.”

“He looks as though he might faint. He can join you,“ Jessamine said with an amused look up at Daud, who felt, increasingly, as though he was being toyed with.

“It’s been a strange night,” he rasped, his voice breaking with the certainty that was either a joke or an error in judgement, but surely not the answer to his misbegotten hopes. “I will leave you.”

He gently removed Jessamine’s hand from his chest, evaded Corvo’s dark gaze, and turned to leave. He’d gotten perhaps three steps away when her voice called out:

“Do you not love us, Daud?”

He stopped, turned to look at her over his shoulder.

“I’m sure you know,” he answered quietly. He watched as she caught up with him, came to stand in front of him once again. He did not protest as she touched his cheek, just above where she’d kissed him. Her eyes had lost their mirth, and he saw wistfulness instead.

“Then let us love you twice as much,” she whispered.

“Corvo,” Daud said, pain in his voice now for all to hear, as if appealing to him might have her cease in her advance.

“Did you even hesitate?” Corvo asked instead, the same quality in his voice as in his Empress’ gaze. “Before breaking into Holger Square, a place you would not have us go just a month ago, citing the danger?”

“You brought him back to me,” Jessamine said, drawing her thumb over his cheekbone. “And it throws into sharp relief that I could have lost you both tonight.“

She must have seen him weaken, for she smiled.

“What is your answer, Daud?” she asked.

He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he reached for her, and she stepped readily into the circle of his arms.

“You must think I’m a fool,“ he murmured, daring to brush his lips against her hair.

“We are all fools in love,” Corvo’s reproach was gentle.

So they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they belong together and this is the hill I'm going to die on


	46. Drabble challenge: 2, “Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> drabble challenge, 2, just hit me with anything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon

Daud isn’t used to heeding anyone’s sleep but his own. He certainly isn’t used to sharing quarters with anyone.

It’s altogether strange, then, when he finds himself checking on Attano for the third time in as many hours. He’s fine, he tells himself, just sleeping off the rest of the poison, when suddenly the erstwhile bodyguard jerks in his sleep, and grunts. A nightmare. In a stride and a blink, he’s by the bed.

“Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.” He reaches out, thinks better of it, but remains. “Calm down, Attano.”

The prone figure stills, settles.


	47. Drabble challenge: 9, “You can’t banish me! This is my bed too!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MMMMM DRABBLE CHALLENGE NUMBER 9 please :')

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by exalok

“Corvo,” Daud growls.

The man currently burrowing against his back shows no sign of having heard. Well — it _is_ four in the morning. All the more reason, Daud finds, not to go stealing blankets, then chucking them all off, then come to him for warmth.

“Get the blankets back or I’m throwing you out,” Daud continues, just on the off chance. A soft huff of laughter against his neck gives the blanket thief away.

“You can’t banish me,” Corvo mumbles, his lips brushing Daud’s skin. “This is my bed, too.”

“Watch me,” Daud challenges, even as his heartbeat skips. Traitor.


	48. I'm not even sorry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four word prompts: I'm not even sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Resri <3

Had one asked many of the Whalers — indeed, most of them but especially Rinaldo, Rulfio, and Galia Fleet — then they would’ve answered that Daud had never had fun in his life. Had they not known him for as long as they had, they might have also doubted that he’d ever been young (and stupid).

It was all the more of a shock, therefore, when one day at Dunwall Tower, they found him jury-rigging several — declawed, to coin a phrase — spring razors and a dozen… balloons?

“Boss?” Fleet ventured. They were in his office, down the hallway, in fact, from Attano’s, and she could not help but wonder whether this would finally be the scheme that had the so stoic Lord Protector’s mask _slip_ , and got them all booted out of the palace. Not that she was as comfortable as could be here, but it beat fighting Overseers and witches every other week. They had gotten out of Rudshore just in time: the district was now the battleground of bitter skirmishes between the rats and the City Watch. A cure against the Plague had not yet been found — but at least Burrows was dead and buried.

Daud waved them in, closer to the desk. He looked… crafty. It was an odd expression on him.

“What’s all this, boss?” Rulfio now asked, too, concerned. Rinaldo, on the other hand, just looked delighted.

“Anywhere you need us to put this, boss?” _he_ asked, and Rulfio and Galia turned to glare at him. He shrugged, blithely.

Daud, to their fortune, was too busy tying a few last knots to pay attention to them.

“I’ll deliver this myself, thank you,” he said, all business and grating tones. “But I have something else for you.” He each handed them a file of field reports, from Watch officers and agents of the Crown. “These are surveillance reports on barristers, merchants, and politicians, accumulated in the past week.” He paused, fixing them with a look. “Do them over. Check them for gaps, for details they missed. _Don’t_ read them before you get there, just get the name. Then do your own observations and correct these.”

“What sort of an exercise is that?” Galia asked, just because Daud seemed approachable enough today to have his methods questioned.

He scowled.

“One of trust,“ he said lowly. “Now go.”

So they did, and Galia marvelled absently that the grave nature of his reply had never been undercut by the fact that he’d delivered it over the top of colourful balloons.

* * *

It was a week later that Daud finally reaped the rewards of his labour; and as Corvo found him in his office, it was to the tune of Daud trying and failing — miserably — to contain his amusement.

“Daud,” Corvo scolded, closing the door behind him and trudging up to his desk, where he came to stand, frowning at the not-so-newly appointed Royal Spymaster.

“Attano,” Daud fairly wheezed, and it was enough to see the corner of Corvo’s mouth tick up involuntarily to make him chuckle harder.

Corvo sighed, forcing his expression into seriousness.

“I know you don’t like Lord Bucklesworth,” he began, tilting his head in disapproval when Daud snorted at that spectacular understatement. “But that does not give you the right of _rigging_ his rooms just before he stays here. He’s a courtier, and if Jessamine decides to let him reside here while Parliament is in session for a continuous week, we must pay heed to her—”

“Oh, I’ve paid heed to her commands,” Daud said, interrupting him. “Only I’ve also paid heed to my absolute loathing for the man. _And_ his fear of balloons. Truly, bodyguard, you should have seen his face!”

“Who do you think will be blamed for this?“ Corvo demanded then.

“All possible suspects will be protected by their Empress’ word and dignity,” Daud returned. “Honestly, you’re just putting a dampener on my good mood now. Bucklesworth is never going to make a scene, and you know it. He’s too embarrassed. What he is going to do, however, is pipe down a little bit in Parliament; making this week much smoother sailing. For you and your Empress, might I add.”

“You’re an ass,” Corvo informed him.

“I’m the ass,” Daud countered, “who brought to you the evidence you needed to save your Empress from the wolves and your precious city from collapse, so _perhaps_ —“

“Not this again,” Corvo said despairingly, rolling his eyes. “This is my city as much as it is yours.”

“Dunwall is not my home, Attano,” Daud said. “I’ve not forgotten, even if you seem to.”

“And yet, you chose to save it,” Corvo returned smugly. “Think on that, _assassin_.” And with that, he turned, to march back to the door and leave.

“I’m not even sorry!” Daud called after him.

Corvo waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder as he stepped outside.

“Hate to see him go, like to watch him leave,” Daud murmured to himself, then scoffed. He had to stop drinking with Fleet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing crack played straight — I should do it more often :'D


	49. “You got two choices: let me carry you, or die out here. Take your pick.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You got two choices: let me carry you, or die out here. Take your pick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon

When Corvo crawled out of the hole the Whalers had thrown him into, on Daud’s orders, he hoped that most of the poison might have left his system. Tyvian, one of the assassins had said, and dimly Corvo remembered the same word out of Pendleton’s lying mouth. Tyvian poisons were varied, none worked like the other; and Corvo was half grateful that this one apparently wasn’t determined to leave him shitting himself to death in a hole covered by nothing but a wooden plank.

Instead, his stomach was roiling still, and he was sweating, mores than usual underneath his mask — which they had kindly left him. There was no doubt that Daud had known exactly who the Masked Felon was all along, even if he had evidently declined to share this certainty with his men. Corvo remembered them suddenly turning up at Bottle Street, and the vanishing shadow he’d seen only out of the corner of his eye at Holger Square.

He had to get his gear, first. And then, he’d get his revenge.

*

Daud would admit to being impressed: he had not expected Corvo to arrive at the Chamber for at least another three hours. That he was here now, albeit in a sorry state, gave credit to his determination — and to his command of the Outsider’s powers. He could have only had them for two months, at the most.

But now, the rest of his body was failing him. He’d moved too fast, and there was a commotion from the building behind Daud as the Whalers caught sight of him. Daud transversed towards the broken window, onto the planks bridging the houses.

Attano was half-kneeling, one foot still planted on the ground. But the other leg had given way, and he was leaning heavily on his fabled folding sword. His horrid mask reflected what light there was in this gloom, his face turned up, towards him. Half a dozen Whalers were in a half circle around him, their blades raised and their fists ready. If Daud gave the order, they would rip Corvo to shreds.

“Step aside,” he called. Only one of them, Rulfio, turned his face toward him.

“Sir?” Thomas asked from behind him, anxious.

Daud transversed down, coming to stand only a few feet from Corvo.

“—trap,” Thomas’ ignored words followed him down.

Of course it could have been a feint. But Corvo was not one for showmanship in eliminating his enemies — his ill-advised signing of the guestbook at Lady Boyle’s party notwithstanding.

Those unseeing eyes still stared at Daud.

“You got two choices: let me carry you, or die out here. Take your pick.”

For a long time, no-one moved.

Then, Attano reached out his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👀👀👀


	50. "Sorry, were you sleeping?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you're taking prompts and inspired, please do: "Sorry, were you sleeping?" sometime? WRECK ME. Better yet, have them wreck each other. With FEELINGS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attention: NSFW!

When Daud woke before Corvo, it was because the Royal Protector had been the one spending most of his nights out on the rooftops for a solid week, while Daud remained at the Tower to train the Whalers, guards, or occasionally Emily. She’d only just turned fourteen, and Corvo, while understanding the necessity, was still reluctant to put a blade into her hands and let her get to work. Daud had a couple fewer scruples, not because he loved her less but precisely because he did. The earlier Emily knew her way around a knife and, eventually, a sword, the better she would be by the time she was grown. Daud had given her some basic hand to hand lessons the evening before, with Dodge assisting, and she’d picked them up remarkably quickly.

Daud had not had the chance to tell Corvo directly, however, as he still hadn’t been back by the time Daud had been done wrestling with reports and conspiracies. Now, he was regrettably awake, and found Corvo curled into his side, a leg and an arm thrown over him, and breathing softly against his neck. Daud had been deep enough asleep that he hadn’t noticed him get into bed — and if that wasn’t an indictment of how he’d gone incredibly soft over the past four years.

Four years.

It was 1843, and Daud was sleeping in soft sheets, on a mattress that hadn’t housed at least three generations of plague rats being born, next to the most handsome man he’d ever met.

It was horrifying, really.

And now, that same most handsome man was burrowing closer into him… and he had to be dreaming something very nice, for his hips were slowly moving against Daud’s thigh even as he, blissfully, remained asleep. Daud wondered — they had talked about this, once; admittedly they’d both been post-coital at the time and Daud hadn’t been sure which way was up, but he remembered Corvo telling him that if he ever wanted to start with him like that in the mornings, it’d be the most satisfying way to wake up he could imagine.

What he’d done, in short, was simple: put Corvo on his back and rile him up until there were tears in his eyes; and not from boredom.

And, well. Corvo had given him _permission_. Wasn’t that something.

*

Consciousness came slow, and by the time Corvo realised that his dreams had quite literally become reality, he was straining against the front of the linen trousers he usually wore to bed, and he felt… Void, he felt warm. A low moan rumbled up from inside him, and he opened his eyes to find Daud raising himself from where he’d been virtually mouthing at him through the fabric covering his groin. His pyjama top was unbuttoned, his chest exposed, and there was a hand possessively covering his hip.

“Finally,” Daud rasped, impatience clear as day, before his eyes softened. “Good morning.”

Corvo blinked, then realised Daud was already completely naked, and aroused, and practically on top of him.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Daud murmured. “Were you sleeping?”

“Just undress me,” Corvo half commanded, half pleaded — the percentages were, possibly, a little off. But calculating didn’t get any easier as Daud did as he was told, divesting Corvo of his clothes with minimal help from the man only nominally wearing them.

“I can do better,” Daud promised lowly as he sat up again, and Corvo’s eyes widened at the sight of Daud straddling him — positioning himself.

“Daud,” Corvo said, his voice still hoarse.

“I know where we keep the oil,” Daud returned, the only saving grace being that he was too flushed in the cheeks to be truly smug. Before Corvo could so much as touch him, Daud reached for him and started sinking down on him, and he supposed it was _something_ to be punched in the gut and the balls at the same time first thing in the morning. He was just about smart enough to wrap his hands around Daud’s thighs.

“Keep ‘em there,” Daud told him, breath hitching in his throat as he worked himself the rest of the way open, using Corvo as he pleased.

“Huh?” Corvo asked, eloquently.

“No, ah, touching,” Daud ordered.

“What, this?” Corvo asked, moving one hand from Daud’s thigh and reaching for his—

“No,” Daud punched out and _swatted_ at his hand. “Don’t make me tie you down.”

Corvo glared, and groaned. And obeyed.

Not many words were exchanged after that, and Corvo was content to watch pleasure build up in Daud’s eyes and the line of his shoulders. His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed, and as he used his knees to leverage himself up, his lips parted on a gasp. He arched his back and breathed Corvo’s name.

Corvo gritted his teeth. He knew Daud when he got like this, batted Corvo’s hands away and demanded he be _patient_. Corvo was determined not to reach his peak before Daud did, and Daud was equally determined to make this endeavour as difficult as possible.

He hated him.

Almost as much as he loved him.

Corvo only just dared to move his left hand and to slide it up Daud’s stomach, when Daud opened his eyes, heat turning in them. He growled, “Come here.”

‘Finally,’ it would have now been Corvo’s turn to say, but he didn’t. Instead, he braced himself on the mattress and sat up, wrapping his arms around Daud’s waist and back, and he _held on_.

“C’mon,” Daud rasped, his fingertips digging into Corvo’s shoulders.

_Finally_. Bucking into Daud, Corvo stretched up to kiss him, swallowing his moans; and groaned when Daud bit down on his lower lip. They were still in the race, then, and Corvo was all but out of restraint. He peppered kisses along Daud’s jaw and throat, enjoying how Daud was taller than him, like this. Daud’s breath ghosted over his cheek, and then Corvo ducked his head to mouth along Daud’s collarbone.

“Corvo,” Daud warned, a low, threatening note. It was endearing. And it meant he was close.

“Daud,” Corvo answered in kind, and then bit down.

“Shit,” Daud cursed, and broke. He rocked atop Corvo, spending himself between them; and Corvo followed him a moment later, burning all over.

They stayed as they were, catching their breath, until Corvo shifted underneath Daud, drawing a noise out of Daud as though he was in pain.

“You alright?” he whispered.

“Better than that,” Daud answered, his eyes calmer now even though his voice was still strained. He leaned more heavily into Corvo, who happily held him up. Daud raised his hand to touch Corvo’s chin, tip it up, and kiss him slowly. “Sleep well?”

Corvo smiled against his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this, the first prompt collection is concluded. I'll open a new one soon, but 50 is always a nice round number. Thanks for reading, everyone!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * ["I bet my dad can beat your dad!"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16079321) by [BID](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BID/pseuds/BID)




End file.
